RECAPTURED CONTINUED
by Llinos
Summary: An AU about Merry and Pippin - and practically everyone else now! Chapter 148 - The Story continues! Chapter 56 is a recap of the story to that point. Final chapter - Recaptured! There will be appendices, to tie up loose ends - but this is the end of the actual story! First Appendix - The Departed - now posted.
1. Conversations

Recaptured - Chapter 93

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Conversations  
  


As Gandalf, Gimli and Legolas made their way to the City gates to check the fortifications, the onslaught against Minas Tirith had abated somewhat with the dying light. Nevertheless, the three seasoned warriors were well aware that the siege could not last much longer and that the City could easily fall the following day.

"There are men deployed in the centre of the City where none are needed so urgently, I'll warrant," Gimli suggested. "It would be better to bring them forward before morning."

"I agree Master Dwarf," Legolas concurred. "What say you Gandalf?"

"You are in command, Legolas," Gandalf pointed out, "although I would not think it wise to move all the centrally positioned guard, it could easily be halved." 

"I take the command in name only," Legolas smiled. "I trust Mithrandir you do not intend to weigh me with the responsibility of this war, I prefer to fight as a soldier, not a General."

"You give yourself too little credit, my dear elf." Gandalf clapped his colleague's shoulder. "What if I should be needed elsewhere? It would be better for you to be in command.

"I had not thought to take such responsibility, Gandalf," Legolas protested. "I merely accepted to prevent Denethor doing something even more bizarre." The elf looked questioningly at Gandalf, "It is clear he is not in full possession of his wits at present." 

"Yes, and your acceptance was well done, I have faith in your ability." Gandalf reassured him. "Do not fear, I shall advise you at every turn, but ultimately the responsibility remains yours."

"Do you fear a different kind of assault against the City, Gandalf?" Gimli stopped walking to lean on his axe and look steadfastly at the wizard. "Are you expecting a conflict too great for man, elf or dwarf to master

"Who can say, Gimli?" Gandalf returned his gaze. "The enemy has many forces at his disposal, some possibly greater than I. It is best to prepare for every eventuality."

Just then a cry went up from the people crowding around the road to the gate "Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" A young commander in charge in that sector hearing the shout spotted the three and hurried over. "Bring you orders from the Lord Denethor, Mithrandir?" He was obviously very anxious and looked as though he had not slept in a long time. "My men grow weary, but I am afraid to let any stand down at present."

"Prince Legolas, had been given the post of Commander-in-Chief by the Lord Denethor," Gandalf explained, handing the man the parchment to read. "Here are his credentials, you will take orders from him now."

Legolas smiled at the man, which surprised him a little. "What is your name, Sir?" he asked politely.

"Captain Malwyn, er Sir, I mean, Your Highness, Prince." The man stuttered, unsure of the way to address a royal prince, not to mention an elf.

"Very well Captain Malwyn, you may call me Commander Legolas." The elf looked quizzically at Gandalf who nodded very slightly that that was acceptable. Legolas continued more confidently. "Who else is in command? We need to move half of the men from the mid levels of the City to the fore. Then you may stand down half your men for two hours rest. They will then be able to relieve the others, that is all the time we can afford before dawn. How many soldiers are currently off duty?"

"There are 20 other Captains around the City, Commander." Malwyn counted them through in his head. "No, 22. I can send runners to them if you order it requesting half the mid guard be sent forward and half to stand down for two hours. To my knowledge, no men are off duty just now."

"Until first light we can halve the number of men on the battlements, the others must be ready, but all must rest, so they must guard the walls turn and turn about." Legolas glanced at Gandalf to see how he was doing. The wizard smiled and nodded. Commander Legolas took a deep breath, smiled and turned to Malwyn again. "Do you have any questions?" 

"Just one, Commander," Malwyn said, "Will Minas Tirith fall? Will this be the end of Gondor?"

Commander Prince Legolas drew himself up and clamped the man's shoulder; "Let us hope not, Malwyn my friend." Legolas thought of the Rohirrim, camped a day's ride away and of Aragorn who must be on his way to the City. "By my best understanding, reinforcements are on the way."

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Pippin backed away from Denethor in panic, but tripped as he did so and ended up sitting on the floor with his leg caught under him. The Steward offered his hand to help the hobbit up and Pippin saw nothing else as an option but to take it. He considered sending out a mental call for help to Legolas, but decided to wait and see what this strange man was going to do. Pippin was afraid, sorely afraid, but he was also morbidly curious. The siren call of a palantír was present in the room; he knew that one lay on the covered-over plinth. Pippin felt its magnetism, together with a desire to touch once more, to look into the compelling depths. It was greater even than the need he suffered for poppy.

Poppy! The thought reminded him, he had some in his pocket and his foot was hurting terribly after the climb up all those stairs. Pippin reached inside his surcoat and found the small box that contained the paste the healers had given him. He glanced up at Denethor who was watching him with a furrowed brow, obviously curious to know what he was up to. Pippin dipped his finger into the paste and ate it with a sigh, closing his eyes, as the flavour in itself always made him feel instantly better.

Denethor reached out and took the little box from him, sniffing the contents and then smiling at the hobbit with a knowing look. "Hmm opium. I wonder how long you've been addicted to this?" The Steward was well acquainted with the effects of the narcotic and reasoned that his purpose may be served well by the halfling being more relaxed at the moment. He handed the box back and as Pippin started to replace the lid, Denethor restrained his hand, nodding towards the paste. His suggestion was quite clear. 

Pippin shrugged and took second fingerful and then, the Steward's gaze mesmerized the hobbit and his will seemed to dissolve, another. He drew a deep breath and let his shoulders sag in relaxation as the drug took over his system.

Denethor took Pippin by the hand and led him to the plinth giving him a knowing look. He could sense the halfling's attraction and dread of the palantír and as he drew the cloth away from it, felt a small thrill run through the little hand in his. He looked down at Pippin's face. The small knight was calm and yet apprehensive.

The Steward knew well the perils of the glass seeing stone. He had wrestled long and hard, first with his conscience before he even dared to look into the mystical orb, then for control of the palantír itself. He had been aware that he might encounter great evil within the depths of the glass, but he was drawn by its promise of knowledge and wisdom, of the ability to see things hidden from other men and to achieve a greatness that he felt was his by right of birth and duty.

The halfling he was sure had been led to the palantíri by routes very different from his own. This small creature could surely never hope for, nor desire, power or might over others and yet still he had been compelled to the draw of the seeing stones. Perhaps in the first instance by force, but, Denethor studied Pippin with his piercing eyes, he had been drawn to it again, another occasion, when the little one had sought a stone for himself and then… then, he had regretted it, deeply. Something terrible had happened as a result.

Denethor realised with a jolt that just by holding the small hand in his, the physical contact was allowing him a sense of the halfling's mind. It was possible the connection, the common bond they shared via the palantíri was linking them. The halfling is already able to read minds with the elf, the Lord reasoned, therefore it is possible that I can touch his memory also.

This sudden realisation confirmed to Denethor that his plan was sound and would work beyond doubt. He needed, not just to know how Boromir died, he needed to see his son's death. The passion burned in him with a fervour that would not abate, he had to do this and he was certain now that Pippin's mind would be opened fully to him with the power of the palantír. Their shared experience with the seeing stones would serve him now and together they would relive the moment when his dearest son had sacrificed his life. Did this small being realise what a sacrifice that had been? Did he truly know how important Boromir was to him and to Gondor? Did he regret being the cause of the valiant soldier's death? The palantír would show him all of this, he knew enough to control it in the direction he needed, how to gain entry to this halfling's mind and soul.

He took Pippin's hands and found the halfling unhesitant now, although whether that was because of the opium or a willingness on the little one's part he was not sure, but nevertheless he laid the small hands on the glowing red orb and covered them with his own great hands. Together they gazed into the palantír.

The Steward did not use spoken words; he knew there was no purpose in them for the deaf halfling in any case. But he willed his mind to reach Pippin's through the force that now flowed between them.

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Merry awoke with a small shudder. At first he thought he was cold but then he realised that he was in fact quite warm and there was a blanket around him that was not his, it was far too thick and luxurious. Ever since he had been blind, Merry always found waking to be the most disorientating and worrying time of his day, especially as he frequently was not too sure where he was or in whose company. A familiar voice nearby startled him for a moment, but then he realised that was what had awakened him.

"Merry, Merry! Do not fret!" Théoden woke the sleeping halfling when he began to whimper and tremble in his sleep. "What makes you shake so?"

"I was dreaming, I think." Merry sat up and made to rise to his feet, but Théoden stayed his movement. "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord."

"Do not get up Meriadoc," Théoden sat on the ground next to the hobbit. "I will sit with you for a moment, as we did on the Tower of Orthanc when you first offered me your sword and you will tell me what dream made you cry out."

"I'm not sure I remember, my Lord." Merry drew the blanket around him as a shiver ran through him. "I think it was a nightmare of the wraith king, but whether it was a memory or a foretelling I cannot say."

"Perhaps it was neither," Théoden suggested. "Maybe it was just your fear of the wraith. Do you fear him, Merry?"

"I would be foolhardy and a liar if I said I did not." Merry agreed. "I am but a blind hobbit and he a powerful and terrible foe. But I will try my Lord to let my fear be my weapon, not my failing."

"Thus have you always Meriadoc." Théoden put his hand on the halfling's shoulder, "From the first time I met you. I was awed at your courage then, even when you named it as fear. You stood on Orthanc and challenged me and then offered yourself up to the wraith king, that was not the act of one who turns away from danger and so it will serve you tomorrow."

"I hope to serve you tomorrow, my Lord. It will be a brave battle, won't it?" Merry said with a warm smile. "The poets and minstrels will have much to make memories with." 

"They will indeed Meriadoc," Théoden smiled in spite of his foreboding. "Let us hope they will remember us both. We will know soon when the day breaks and we ride to battle."

"I can no longer tell night from day my Lord." Merry had been puzzled by this recent change but had not liked to ask, just assuming the weather had clouded over. "I do not feel the sun on my face any more." 

"There was no sun this day spent." Théoden confirmed. "A black shadow lies across this land and I think we shall not see the sun again until this battle is fought and won. But I shall not sleep now Meriadoc, there is but an hour left before daybreak."

"Yes my Lord." Merry climbed to his feet and stood before Théoden "I too am ready to serve."

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Pippin felt strangely calm as Denethor took his hands and placed them on the palantír, the poppy made him feel happy and pain free, but apart from that, as the great man had held his hand and led him forward, it was as if something had passed from the Steward into his mind, a new confidence, and he no longer felt afraid. He gazed into the palantír and with some surprise saw a vision there of Boromir, but not as he remembered him. He was a younger man with no beard, riding a spirited horse across a grassy plain with the City behind him.

Pippin looked up at the Steward and realised it was he that had shown this vision to him, through the glass ball. What did he want to know? What did he, Pippin, remember? The communication was unclear, not the fast moving conversations the hobbit was used to, he tried to make sense of this and understand what Denethor wanted. The vision changed and Pippin was looking at the horn that Boromir carried, but now it was split in two. But now he realised what the man wanted from him – to see his son's death.

Pippin resisted. It was not something he wished to relive. Part of the psyche of hobbits was that they could survive trauma more readily than many humans, sad things that they would sooner not think about. In spite of this, the image of Boromir's death had stayed with him for a long time and had been brought back to his mind when Smagnu had been shot, making him believe for a long time that his beloved orc had met the same fate. He did not want to pull either of those images back to his mind now, even relating it to Legolas had distressed him most terribly. Picturing the scene again would not change anything, it would not bring Boromir back, what was the point. 

The image changed again, he saw himself. He was putting his finger into the poppy paste and eating it, his face smiling with relief and pleasure as his need for the drug was assuaged.

Pippin jumped a little with shock at the realisation that the Steward had seen his thoughts, even though he had not verbalised them within his mind as he did when he spoke to Legolas and Merry. Normally, unless he actually put his thoughts into his strange muddled up hobbity mind speak, the others could not hear him, either that or they just didn't listen to him think.

Denethor's message was perfectly clear – he wanted to see Boromir's death because of a great need inside of him – a desire that was similar to Pippin's own need for opium.

Pippin still held back, although not as strongly now, he felt his resistance weakening as sympathy for the elderly man struck him forcibly. Denethor loved his son desperately and had to know how he had met his end.

The hobbit glanced up at Denethor and held his eyes for a long moment, then they both returned their gaze to the palantír. Pippin was aware of a momentary jolt of something else, as if another entity had been alerted to their presence but Denethor seemed to have a familiarity with this that stemmed his anxiety for the moment. Nevertheless, it generated a sense of urgency in Pippin that he should get this over with and retreat from the situation as quickly as possible.

The hobbit allowed his mind to open up to the events leading to brave Boromir's defence of Merry and him. As the vision in the palantír changed to reflect his mind, Pippin gulped suddenly, almost biting his tongue, as his memory showed a clear picture of an orc swinging an axe towards Merry's head. Denethor felt the hobbit's sense of helplessness and then relief as Boromir appeared as if from nowhere, his hand staying the blow and ripping the axe from the orc to bury it in his back.

Pippin did bite his lip now because the sight of Merry grew in his thoughts as the view of him in the palantír sent his mind racing out towards his cousin and caused him to rein in the image immediately. In the palantír, Merry suddenly became faceless and Pippin felt an uncomfortable stirring as if someone were still trying to see who it was and to touch him at the same time. He knew instinctively it was not Denethor. All the more reason, Pippin decided to keep Merry and Legolas out of this situation.

The image moved on and Denethor, from Pippin's point of view, saw the now faceless Merry fighting alongside Boromir and himself, trying to use the skills the Gondorian had taught them. As the three retreated, Boromir sent his knife flying into the neck of another orc, then blew three sharp blasts on his horn.

They ran on but more orcs barred the way and Boromir downed several more of their assailants, while the hobbits kept alongside, ready to join in if they could, but keeping clear of the big man so as not to hamper him. 

The orcs kept coming and Boromir, sounding the horn once more, pushed the two hobbits further away from their pursuers, urging them to run. He then turned again and struck an Uruk-hai. Merry and Pippin gained some ground but they both stopped in dismay that Boromir was not following and turned back to try and help him rather than running on to freedom. They both collected rocks and began to hurl them.

Pippin's body jerked in sympathy with the impact of the first arrow and Denethor heard him cry out for the first time, a small shout of horror and warning. He looked at the hobbit beside him and realised the sound had come from within Pippin's mind. He was already surprised that the two hobbits had fought so fiercely alongside his son and was now touched at this small one's emotion at witnessing Boromir's death once more. 

The force of the arrow pushed Boromir backwards past the hobbits, finally ending up on his knees. But as yet more assailants rushed towards them, the Gondorian regained his feet and once more interposed his body in front of the two, downing several more orcs.

Another arrow slammed into the great noble chest, bringing Boromir to the ground. Pippin gave another gasp of anguish and pain. Denethor gasped too. He felt the perian's grief and terror at what was happening to his son and then Boromir's eyes locked with Pippin's, but through the palantír, Denethor saw the regret filled eyes of his heir seem to gaze straight into his own. The Steward clasped Pippin's hands tightly, pressing them harder against the glass orb as his emotions tipped over the edge, teetering on the brink of sanity.

Boromir tore his eyes away from the shocked hobbits and somehow struggled up to his feet to strike down three more foes, before a third arrow struck. He fell forward to his knees his face filled with not just the pain of the deeply embedded arrows, but the agony of defeat, not for himself but for his little ones. His head fell further forward as Merry and Pippin, rather than running in terror, lifted high their little swords and, just as he had taught them, screamed their battle cry of "The Shire!" rushing straight at their enemies to avenge his coming death.

Denethor felt the bewildered devastation in Pippin's mind as the orcs swept him and his companion up into their arms. As the final view of Boromir began to fade into the distance the Steward realised that these two small creatures had not cowered behind rocks as his son had fallen in their defence. He saw that the three had been comrades in arms and that each would have fought to the death for the other.

Denethor knew now that this small knight was fully deserving of the arms he had granted him. Although he believed it before, it was only on the word of others, now he had seen the proof. He knew also that he would never let Peregrin leave his side, it was as if he carried a part of Boromir within him forever and Denethor had to keep that portion of his son close to his body and soul.

Pippin looked up at the Steward in surprise as he felt warmth and something close to kindliness surge into his mind like a window had been opened on a sunny Spring morning. Denethor's eyes lit with sympathy for the tears that trickled down Pippin's pale cheeks and as he reached out to touch them away his hand suddenly lifted and landed as a blow instead, smacking across the perian's face.

Both were momentarily shocked, the feelings that had built between them had been abruptly interrupted by a slamming force that rent them violently apart and yet clove them both to the palantír.

Pippin began to breathe faster and Denethor wrenched his mind back around to tackle the intrusion, facing straight into the dark terror of the unblinking eye.

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TBC 

A/N:

Many people have asked what I am going to do with Recaptured because of the original NC-17 rating. In truth, the rating applied to two gratuitous paragraphs at the end of chapter 2 – which have been changed. However I was very upset at the prospect of losing all the wonderful reviews that the readers have so kindly taken the trouble to write so these are now still sitting on Recaptured II. 

On to nicer things! As I type this Marigold is sitting beside me and poking me in the back every so often – oww! gerroff! She is a cruel and unnatural slave driver who makes me write night and day. ("Yeah right!" she just said).

Okay, she's sitting here nicely with her cup of tea and not being rude at all.

The point is she is here – YAY! and is poking me with her sticksesss and poking the story too in all sorts of exciting directions. Shouting her battle cry of "150 CHAPTERS!"

Of course we have both worked on this chapter and so she now gets to say her bit. Ladies and Gentlemen? I give you the one and only Marigold!

Such an introduction, when I had no warning I'd have to say anything! Such pressure! I truly am not a slave driver. Llinos will just have to get used to the idea that I will do things like block her chair in with mine if she attempts to get up from the keyboard. It's my job.

I will take this opportunity to tell you all that Llinos is absolutely wonderful, and I don't mean just in the capacity of a writer. We have been having a grand time tramping the Shire – she actually does live in Tolkien's own Shire – doing hobbity things like exploring the beech woods, picking (and eating) blackberries, startling innocent deer, and making up stories as we go along. We've also been doing  un-hobbity things like watching videos of Dominic Monaghan in Hetty Wainthrope Investigates, analysing the FoTR dvd frame by frame, speculating on TTT, which we will see together on opening day, having long discussions on Tolkien's works, and I personally am having the fun of bullying Llinos into writing lots of different stories. In other words, life is good! 

As to the future of Recaptured my sticksess and I travelled 8000 miles to be here, and I WILL have my 150 chapters despite ff.net.  Things are just getting exciting, and there is a lot more to come, as well as a sequel planned. And now it's teatime and the crumpets are waiting!


	2. Dangerous Thoughts

Recaptured Continued

Author: Llinos

Beta and additional material: MarigoldG

Chapter 94

Dangerous Thoughts

The Witch king of Angmar circled over the growing dawn of Minas Tirith, the eight Nazgûl deployed around him and victory over the City assured for the coming day. His search for the new holder of Saruman's palantír that had challenged his Master had come to nothing, but it had not revealed itself in any substance either and now the fate of the stronghold below lay in his reach. It was his, and his Master's, for the taking.

The light was not yet enough to discern the readiness of the army below, but the Witch king knew that the defenders of the City were few and could not prevail against his forces, even with the help of the accursed wizard.

Suddenly he felt a call from his Master, something was stirring in the tower of Minas Tirith. The Lord Denethor no doubt was once more looking to his palantír to find answers to salvage his imminent defeat. The Wraith knew there was no hope for the Steward, if only by the fact that his own Master cast the shadow of despair over the man. But something had happened. Some new addition was clouding the view, his Master was angry. The Dark Lord was sensing a presence within the palantír that should not be there.

It was the wretched halfling! The one that had been ripped from him by the filthy wizard at the gates of the City. His Master had just encountered it in his view from the palantír, it was standing alongside of the Steward, Denethor.

He would swoop down on the Tower and snatch or kill it at once if he were able, but the building was too well fortified and inaccessible. The Witch king strove for the halfling's thoughts. It was pathetically attempting to reassure the Steward but Denethor wanted to know the fate of the Ring as of course did his Master.

A wall of solid rock slammed down in the small creature's mind. It surprised the three powerful beings who were all pressing eagerly forward trying to pry this information from the weak little thing. It had grown, its mind had become accustomed to discipline and control, although against this onslaught it could not hold everything back.

The Wraith's Master sent a painful, sharp spear of demand penetrating into the tiny consciousness. The halfling flung his thoughts, his mind and body away from the Steward, away from the palantír and the Witch king and finally, summoning up all his strength, mental and physical, away from the Dark Lord.

Sauron snatched towards the elusive being and tried to grab it back, to encompass it once more in his shadow, but it was gone. Livid, a streak of rage shot from the Dark Lord intending to pull the infuriating insect back into his control, but to his disbelief he failed. But not completely. One   small thought, a tiny memory remained. It had tried desperately to suppress it but the thought was too strong. The other! His companion had been faceless in the memory of the death of the Steward's son, but as he had fought to lift Denethor's mood of desperation, his thought had briefly touched on the other. He was abroad, not in Minas Tirith, but with an army that was riding towards the City, with the Rohirrim. 

"Fly!" He commanded the Witch king. "Go now! Intercept the filthy horsemen and their aged, useless King. They bring the other halfling to war, the fools, do they not know it is mine? Fly fast! Go and destroy them now and bring it to me."

****

Merry sat up proudly on Windfola, seated before Éowyn as the Rohirrim began the ride to the outer walls of the Rammas Echor. The warrior maiden was clad in steel mail with a tabard over and wore a helm that hid her golden locks, her sword at her hip and the heraldic shield slung upon her back. Merry still wore his leather jerkin and a small helm, which did not completely hide his fair curls. The elven rope was still wrapped around his waist, his ancient sword given to him by Éowyn was in its sheath at his side and his little buckler, with its white horse device, was held on his left arm.

Éowyn and Merry rode in the wake of the King, keeping just behind Snowmane, at a good pace. It was several leagues to where the out-walls had stood. They soon reached them; wild cries broke out and there was some clash of arms, but it was brief. The orcs busy about the walls were few and amazed and they were quickly slain or driven off. Before the ruin of the north-gate in the Rammas the king halted again. 

Far away, maybe ten miles or more, there was a great burning, but between it and the Riders lines of fire blazed in a vast crescent, at the nearest point less than a league distant. 

Silently the host of Rohan moved forward into the field of Gondor, pouring in slowly but steadily, like the rising tide through breaches in a dike that men have thought secure. After a while the king led his men away somewhat eastward, to come between the fires of the siege and the outer fields. Still they were unchallenged and still Théoden gave no signal. The City was now nearer, a smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy, but the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith as if stricken suddenly by anguish or by dread. 

Then suddenly Merry felt it as last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face, far far away echoed the crash of a mighty boom.

At that sound the king sprang suddenly erect. Tall and proud he seemed again and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden  
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!  
Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,  
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!  
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

With that he seized a great horn from Guthláf his banner-bearer and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. His golden shield was uncovered and lo! It shone like an image of the sun and the grass flamed green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came and with it a wind from the sea and the hosts of Mordor wailed and terror took them and they fled and died and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. Then all the host of Rohan burst into song and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

****

Pippin was shocked as Denethor slapped his face, but only partly by the stinging pain. He looked up at the elderly Lord and saw no malice in his eyes, only anxiety and Pippin felt his mind stir in a different direction. He was bending his full will towards the palantír, trying to wrest control of it from the other who had probed at Pippin and made him withdraw his thoughts.

It was not the Lord Steward who had slapped him, Pippin knew that. His hand was guided by the Other and the malice was one that had touched him before, he felt it to the core of his being. It was a dark, evil malevolence that had buried a cold finger in his heart, but which had never managed to reach him. In any being other than a hobbit it would have frozen through to the very soul, but Pippin's lightness and innocence had protected him from the very first time the Dark Lord had probed at his consciousness in the tower of Barad-dûr. 

His hands remained frozen to the palantír and Pippin now felt the Other move to Denethor. The hobbit could glimpse vaguely the images cast before the weary eyes of the Steward. Minas Tirith was in flames, its towers crumbling to the ground, men falling stricken from the blazing ramparts. The great gates were gone and most of the buildings lay in ruins as orcs ran through the bloody, body littered streets, screeching and killing all they found. 

The image moved on to show Gondor. It was laid waste, a barren, blackened countryside, devoid of life and light. Ithilien beside lay burnt and dead, a cover of grey cinder carpeted its once lush hills and vales. The wooded countryside of Lossarnach showed only blackened tree stumps and burnt out crofts. The grassy fields of Rohan were a blackened wasteland. Dol Amroth lay in ruins, the only life was scavenging orcs and other foul creatures.

Pippin breathed faster, his mind was a little befuddled by the opium and he was aware that Denethor had encouraged him to take more than he should have, an act he now regretted. He felt Denethor's mind sinking deeper into despair as he viewed stricken images of his country and its neighbours. There was no hope left in the Steward, the images were to him as if the events had already occurred, but Pippin did not believe it. The hobbit could not think of a way to lighten the outlook for Denethor, other than by allowing information that he must not show, of Frodo and Sam and the Quest, of Merry, Éowyn and the Rohirrim, to seep into his own consciousness. As his thoughts flitted briefly in that direction he felt a sudden onslaught to his mind, as three powerful yet warped entities instantly strove to leech his secrets. The hobbit gritted his teeth and brought a wall of solid rock slamming down across his memories, shutting fast the access to his mind. 

A tendril of thought wafted back, aimed towards the Steward. Pippin had tried to send one tiny ray of hope to let the beleaguered Lord know that there could be help and that all was not lost. 

The little hobbit steeled his inner resources and, using the hard learned control of his mind which he was gradually achieving, managed to briefly isolate a view of the Rohirrim galloping valiantly towards Minas Tirith and even as the image, positive and shining, reached Denethor, Pippin could not help but let slip a brief sight of his Merry perched before Éowyn as they rode into battle.

He blanched in horror as he felt the Witch king and the Dark Lord seize upon his thought in a second and although Denethor lifted a little at Pippin's message of salvation and liberation, still he tried to pull the thought back and away from those who preyed upon his mind. But it was too late, Merry shone like a beacon in his heart, his love too strong for the greatest will to suppress and now it had betrayed him.

*****

TBC

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A/N

Hi everyone – and thanks for the reviews. MarigoldG and I are currently rewriting and reloading Recaptured from the beginning. Readers will find a considerably revised and improved version of the story with inconsistencies with later chapters neatly ironed out. We have also included all the original reviews in the author's notes as there were many amusing and well written comments there that we did not want to lose.

The story is entitled **Recaptured II** and had currently reached chapter 14, but we hope to upload the new version fairly speedily. Please keep reading and reviewing the new version – we think you may be pleasantly surprised.

Cheers

Llinos & MarigoldG

Q&A

Meatball: YEA!!! TIS BEING FINISHED!

Llinos: Well not quite yet – keep reading :-)!

Carolyn: Does this mean we need ANOTHER 1000 reviews for another party?  
Llinos: At least that many! Yum yum – I can't get enough.

Carolyn: When does TTT come out there?  
Llinos: Same as it does there – only 6-8 hours earlier – hee hee!

Baylor: Merry swore himself to Théoden

Llinos & MarigoldG: Well watch this story – because – well just because!

Baylor: Do you hear that? It's me raising the 150 CHAPTERS! battle cry over here in the colonies.

MarigoldG: I thought I heard an echo!

Kookaburra: YAYYYYYY!!!!!!! An update!!! WHEEEEEEEE!!!!

Llinos: Behave!

Freakish Lemon: we would like to make the suggestion of perhaps posting the original, uneditted, NC-17 Recaptured! on www.libraryofmoria.com  
Llinos & MarigoldG: Actually we're pretty happy for this story to be archived on other sites. As to the original version, all we've had to change is a tiny bit at the end of chapter 2. The other changes have been embellishments to improve the story. ff.net, in spite of me asking to change the original did not even answer my email.

Niere: Three cheers for Llinos and Marigold for finding a way around the new rating system!!

Llinos & MarigoldG: Thanks Niere! Go us!

TTTurtle: As I also love Moria's Revenge and a couple other NC17 stories.  
Llinos: Just posted another chapter there too, but under a new story heading – go find Moria's Revenge Continued. Also reposting the original, as Moria's Revenge Rrated Repost. I just have the horrendous task of rewriting the notorious Chapter 7!

Mistoffelees: Marigold is really with you? Oh happy day! You two make such a cute couple.  
Llinos: Yup – she's really here – poking at me with her sticksess. I just had to rescue her from Shelob – which ran up the wall as we were writing! Okay I'm Merry and she's brave little Pippin!  
MarigoldG: Well I held the torch!

august wynd: hope that you will be allowed to keep your story here.  
Llinos: Thanks – and hear, hear!

Niphrandl: Glad that I decided to check FF.net again!!  
Llinos: Good and don't forget to tell all your friends!

Pansy Chubb: Just when I thought Pippin was out of trouble for a while.  
Llinos: Ha ha – spoke too soon eh?

shirebound: If it were buried in the crumbled ruins of Barad-Dûr  
Llinos: Well I wouldn't put that past ff.net either!

Jay of Lasgalen: I shall continue to follow your story regardless  
Llinos: Yay Jay! Thanks a lot.


	3. No Escape

Recaptured Continued

Author: Llinos

Beta and additional material: MarigoldG

Chapter 95

No Escape

"Stand firm! The new day is upon us." Legolas stood high on the ramparts of Minas Tirith and called to the waiting men. They saw that the elf stood tall, proud and fearless and that the great wizard, Mithrandir was standing firmly behind him. On the other side of the elf, a greater wonder, four square, his arms akimbo, was a dwarf, clad in mail and armour of strange design, his face stern, his axe glinting brightly in the morning sun.

"Men of Minas Tirith be ready to hold this City against the Dark." The elven prince entreated them. "The dawn is broken and the light is come, do not let it slip away!"

In the growing daybreak the land beyond the walls could now be discerned. There were great armies of orcs and men of rough visage from distant lands. Mighty battle machines were poised, ready to begin the assault upon the gates and walls of the great City. In the sky above, still circling endlessly round and round were the wraiths.

"Gandalf, can we prevail against this opposition?" Legolas spoke quietly to the wizard. "I know we must try, but it is not an equal battle."

"We must buy time," Gandalf mouthed back. "Keep morale high and, if we may, the wall and gates intact."

Gandalf surveyed the stalwart men of the City guard and then let his gaze stray up to the high tower of Denethor and the wizard wondered how young Pippin was faring. He had bought them authority to help the City and Gandalf wondered if he was now keeping the Lord Steward distracted in some way. Perhaps he should intervene. A red glowing light was visible from within the high tower and the wizard's thoughts fell suddenly upon a frightening realisation. Denethor had a palantír!

"Gandalf, look!" Legolas broke into the wizard's concentration. "A great engine with an iron face approaches the City gates! It is a terrible ram, a mighty giant of the forest drawn by many hideous beasts and guarded by fierce orcs. It may well rend the gates asunder!"

****

As Pippin and Denethor had clasped their hands about the palantír, both of them had been breathing hard and striving to escape from its ice-cold, blood-red compulsion. Pippin remembered the day, dared by an older lad, he had put his hand on his father's metal plough during the big freeze and his skin had stuck fast. In panic he had pulled away and torn his skin then cut himself on the sharp implement. Merry had found him crying in the barn and bound his handkerchief around the wound and carried him home, telling him not to be upset and that anyone could make such a mistake.

Now he had once more ripped his hands away from an even more terrifying force and this time Merry was not there to help. In fact he, Pippin, had sent their deadly enemy off in pursuit of his cousin. The sliver of thought that had shone through his mind as he had pulled away had been enough for the Witch king and Pippin, in horror, felt him turn his vengeful intent towards Merry.

The hobbit was slumped against the wall where the force of the separation from the palantír had thrown him. He looked up at Denethor and, although Pippin had shut most of his thoughts off, especially the last one of Merry, and was no longer in physical contact with the palantír, he was still aware of the residual echoes from Sauron.

The Dark Lord was emanating pulses of fiery venom towards Denethor and Pippin could feel the power of the force being directed at the Steward. He was unable to identify specific words or pictures as before, but the hobbit now had a different perspective on the communication. He knew it was evil; he knew it was designed to make the noble Steward despair; he knew it was giving the man instructions – what he could not tell, but above all, he knew it was false!

Denethor kept his eyes fixed firmly on the palantír, his mighty will striving to keep control and to turn it where he would, towards the outskirts of Minas Tirith, to find succour and aid for his beleaguered City. The Dark Lord appeared to bend before him, to sway and fall back, gradually allowing him to hold some vestige of light as the dawn rolled over the tower where he struggled and the perian waited. 

With the light, his vision focussed on an image and Denethor seemed to be gazing straight through the glass ball and seeing what was on the other side. In the orb Peregrin was slumped against the wall and as he lay there, half propped up against the masonry, suddenly the brickwork was rent from end to end and the halfling fell through the wall to what must be certain death on the cold flags 100 yards below. 

But before the small body could be smashed to pieces, a great black cloud of flesh and scales swept across his path and caught him up in jagged talons.

Then Denethor felt the chilling voice of the Dark Lord breathe ice and fire into his mind. **'ALL SHALL PERISH – SAVE THIS LITTLE MORSEL! IT IS A DELICACY I SHALL KEEP FOR ALL TIME UNTIL ITS LIVING FLESH SHALL BE DECAYED BEFORE ITS EYES AND TORN FROM ITS VERY SOUL AND THE EXQUISITE TORTURE OF ITS MIND SHALL CONTINUE BEYOND ALL ETERNITY. SUCH A FATE THIS NAÏVE PAWN OF ISTARI FOOLS HAS EARNED BY DEFIANCE OF THE ONE MASTER! ALL SHALL BURN – BUT IT WILL PERSIST IN DELICIOUS AGONY, ISOLATION AND PAIN WITHOUT REST, WITHOUT LET, WITHOUT PEACE, ENDURING EACH SECOND AS IF IT WERE ONE THOUSAND YEARS, UNTIL TIME ITSELF SHALL END!'**

****

The progress of the mighty ram being rolled up to the City gates reverberated through the walls. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor and its hideous head, founded of black steel was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay. Grond they named it in memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old. Great beasts drew it, orcs surrounded it and behind walked mountain trolls to wield it. 

Legolas himself led a team of archers up onto the towers that stood about the gates and they rained down a wall of arrows upon the orcs, men and trolls that propelled the great engine into the defences of Minas Tirith. All before the walls on either side of the gates the ground was choked with wreck and with bodies of the slain; yet still driven as by a madness, more and more came up.

The drums rolled and rattled and with a vast rush Grond was hurled forward by huge hands. It battered against the gates and a deep boom rumbled through the City like thunder running in the clouds. 

At that moment a dread black cloud swooped low over the City gates filling defenders and foes alike with great fear. The hands of men drooped to their sides and no bow sang. Legolas agilely leapt down from the walls and stood firm next to Gandalf, keeping his eyes fixed steadfastly on the trembling gates.

Thrice the Black Captain cried aloud in a dreadful voice, speaking in some forgotten tongue words of power and terror to rend both heart and stone. Thrice the great ram boomed and suddenly upon the last stroke the gates of the City broke. As if stricken by some blasting spell they burst asunder and there was a flash of searing lightning and the doors tumbled in riven fragments to the ground.

The Lord of the Nazgûl flew down to the fallen gates, a great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair as he swooped in under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed and all seemed to fly before his face.

But there, waiting silently, behind the broken gates, stood Gandalf and Legolas. The elf kept his bow trained firmly upon the invader and the wizard lifted his staff and the huge shadow halted. "You cannot enter here!" Gandalf cried.

"Old fool!" the apparition replied. "Old fool! This is my hour do you not know Death when you see it? Death is now upon this City and upon you!"

"Go back! You cannot hold sway in this stronghold of men. For all that you destroy, two more shall come. Leave now and fall back into the nothingness that awaits you. You are for the dead and this place is yet for the living!"

A deathly silence in the midst of the battle fell upon the two great forces of Istari and Dark Lord. Then the morning air was filled with a distant but shrill cry. Horns in dark Mindolluin's sides they echoed, great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.

The Witch king faltered, sniffing with his unseen nose in the blackened air. He turned the head of his steed around and looked all about him. Then, as Gandalf watched in taut anticipation, the hollow cowl turned suddenly to the shining tower where a red glow was still visible.

Suddenly there was a cry of anguish and as Gandalf turned he saw Legolas fall to his knees, his hands clapped tightly about his pointed ears as if in deep agony. 

"What is it, Legolas?" He asked urgently. "You must tell me, if you can." Gandalf glanced up to see what the Witch king's reaction had been and was disturbed to see that his foe had reined in his foul steed and was ascending, wheeling and setting course for the source of the horn blasts.

"It's a-an image – very confused." Legolas gasped weakly. "From… I think… from Pippin, although others were there too."

"Which others?" Gandalf shook Legolas's shoulder, realising too late that he should probably have heeded his earlier foreboding and gone to see how Pippin was faring. "Who else was there?"

"D-Denethor, I think it was." Legolas sounded badly shaken. "And others, much evil… from before, I am sure it was the Dark Lord Sauron himself and the Witch king had joined him. Pip-Pippin did not reveal much – he shut his mind. The little one has become very strong, but… but…"

"What? The image? Quickly! What was the image?" Gandalf knew this did not bode well, but he needed to know what had occurred – what Legolas was seeing.

"It was Pippin's thought," Legolas put his hand on his forehead as if he could touch the memory. "He thought of Merry. He could not hold it back and then he saw him sitting on Windfola in front of Éowyn riding towards Minas Tirith with the Rohirrim. The Dark Lord… He… needs, no… He sent, the Witch king to stop them and to take Merry!"

****

Merry ducked down low on Windfola at Éowyn's shout. She swung her great sword and another orc fell beneath the great grey steed's hooves. As she twisted in the saddle from the opposite direction Merry sensed a movement beneath them and, still crouching low, raised his small buckler to fend off a spear thrust, following through with his own small sword to strike at the assailant eliciting a cry of defeat.

"Good stroke Merry," Éowyn turned back from her own downed opponent to see that the hobbit had struck fast and true. "Our count is rising, we will each equal Éomer yet and together, surpass him."

"How fares Théoden King and the field?" Merry asked. He was trying desperately to hear what was happening on the battlefield, but it was difficult, especially as he concentrated on his immediate surroundings to maintain his defence and attack.

"He rides onward and forward." Éowyn told the hobbit. "He leads the field, but we are close behind. The Eorlingas are pushing forward and defeating all in their path."

"Are we far from the City?" Merry cried above the cacophony of clashing, shouting and thundering hooves.

"It is in sight," Éowyn told him. "But it burns. The flames leap high from within the walls and without."

Merry's heart wrenched within him at this news. Pippin was locked up in that City at the mercy of the thronging armies and battle machines to say nothing of the flames and smoke. In that instant Merry wondered why he could not hear Pippin or Legolas and had not talked in his mind with them for a while. It was normal for them not to make contact all the time as it was distracting whilst pursuing other tasks and speaking to those around you. But Pippin and Legolas had both been silent for a long time. The elf Merry could understand, he was probably involved in important business with Gandalf or even Aragorn, but Pippin?

As Merry mused on this momentarily, a great cry suddenly went up from all around him. Horses were screeching in terror and men cried out, some voices in pain and others in fear and dread. There seemed to be a darkening of spirit that was almost tangible to the blind hobbit, even Éowyn clutched tightly to his shoulder in an unnaturally panic filled grip. "Éowyn! What is it?" He shouted urgently. But even before she could answer, Merry was certain he knew the answer. 

The sounds of chaos around him indicated a great melee of horses and men. Some riders, Merry could hear, had been unseated and others were even now being carried away on their panic filled steeds. Suddenly Windfola tipped up and squealed in terror as Éowyn and the hobbit were thrown to the ground. Then the voice that he dreaded, but was certain would come, reverberated through his head.

'HALFLING – YOU CANNOT HIDE! YOUR FUTILE ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE ME ARE EMPTY AND WITHOUT MEANING! THE OTHER BETRAYED YOU TO ME! THE LORD SAURON WILL TAKE HIM – AND I WILL TAKE YOU.'

As Merry turned his head fearfully up he saw the only thing in Middle Earth that he could see, but that which he dreaded the most.

****

Denethor clutched his throat, gasping for air. His hands were at least now free of the palantír's hold and the dread voice had left his head, leaving him shaken and weak. The earlier images had been daunting enough, but he had been prepared to believe that these were falsehoods, lies sent to him by the enemy to drive him to despair. 

However the last encounter had been different, he had wrested the palantír to his own will and had held sway over the Dark Lord. Then he had seen the truth. All would burn, his City would become ashes, the buildings indistinguishable from the people as all became charred and burnt upon a great pyre that had been Minas Tirith. All except the little halfling.

The Steward looked down at the small figure propped up against the wall, eyeing him with reserved caution, but no sign of fear. And as he looked he felt an overwhelming sense of pity. He could not let the Dark Lord carry out his threat to this little mite. To burn would be a release, compared to the horrors Sauron held in store for the small, innocent halfling. It could not be – he would not let it be.

Denethor stepped forward and caught hold of Pippin's arms and lifted him to his feet. He turned him round and together they stepped towards the door. Pippin stumbled, his foot still painful and his circulation poor from inactivity. The Steward bent to stay his fall and then lifted him off his feet and over his great iron clad shoulder.

Pippin was more than a little surprised at this treatment, but saw no practical way to protest it and instead lay still on the strong shoulder waiting to be put down again. 

As Denethor returned to the chamber he saw, to his anger that Faramir had been taken away. "Where is my son?" he roared to the attendant there. "Speak man!"

"He is gone by order of Beregond." The man was trembling, he had tried to dissuade Beregond against his course of action, defying their Lord and taking his only remaining son to the leeches in the House of Healing. "I tried to stop him, Lord, but he would not be gainsayed."

"Very well," Denethor marched angrily passed the man, Pippin still hoisted on his shoulder. "It is too late for him, but I shall not wait to burn." 

"I'm sorry my Lord?" The man was very afraid now. He did not understand what was going on, but suspected his master had taken leave of his senses. "…wait to burn, My Lord?"

"We shall all burn, but I by no other's hand." Denethor marched to the end of the hall and opened the great door. "If burn I must, then I shall be the cause of it. Bring me rags and fuel and a torch to Rath Dínen. There I shall perish, no long slow sleep of death embalmed. I will burn as a heathen king before ever a ship sailed hither from the West."

"But Lord," The man dared to question once more. "What of the City? And the halfling – what of he? Mithrandir will ask I have no doubt."

"Mithrandir never served this one aught but ill. I will take him to safety of a kind." Denethor patted Pippin on the back. "He shall burn with me – now fetch the wood and materials – run man! before the City burns us of its own accord."

****

TBC


	4. No Surrender

No Surrender 

Chapter - 96 

Recaptured Continued

Author: Llinos

Beta and additional material: MarigoldG

As the Witch king had wheeled around and left, Gandalf first looked back up at the tower and then let his eyes follow the retreating shape in the sky. Although the wizard knew the Wraith did not flee, but rather was gone in pursuit of another prey. The Rohirrim were riding from that direction and Gandalf knew the devastating blow the Lord of the Nazgûl could strike against the massed troops of riders.

A deep wrenching gasp from Legolas made him turn towards the elf, who was even now climbing to his feet, having been brought to his knees by the disturbing thought images he had received earlier. Gimli was by his side, helping him up and Gandalf took his other arm and supported him the rest of the way to his feet.

"I must leave." Gandalf told the two. He pointed up towards the tower. "I fear for young Peregrin. But there is no time. I must pursue the Nazgûl. You Legolas must stay here before the gates and Gimli must aid you."

"Wait!" Legolas clutched the wizard's white clad arm. "You are right to fear for Pippin. He is in great danger, I am sure."

"The Black Rider is even now abroad and he will yet bring ruin on us." Gandalf put his hand on the elf's shoulders. "You and Gimli must direct the holding of the gates, the men of the City are weary, they need help."

They could all see this was so. Even as the Black Captain had retreated his forces had fallen back to a large extent, but the City was vulnerable and exposed without its mighty gates as protection. The guard of Minas Tirith were standing firm, but they needed leadership.

"But Pippin!" Legolas practically pleaded now. "You cannot desert him! I am not sure what Denethor intends, I could not clearly see his mind and when Pippin severed direct contact with him it was only hazy, but I know he is bent on some dire purpose. Pippin will not speak to me – he is trying to keep away – but he is anxious. The Lord Denethor's depression grows deeper and he holds Pippin now and takes him… takes him away somewhere."

Gandalf had listened carefully and then paused in thought for several long moments. At last he spoke, his voice filled with resolve. "It is not an easy choice, but I will go to find Pippin. I must since no other help can reach him. But evil and sorrow will come of this. Even in the heart of our stronghold the Enemy has power to strike us for His will it is that is at work."

****

Denethor passed on down the steep winding road. Light was growing and the tall columns and carven figures beside the way went slowly by like grey ghosts. Pippin across his shoulder was now becoming distraught at the journey, wondering where they were going and to what purpose, especially as the Steward's mood had seemed to sink lower and lower into hopelessness and despair. He struggled now against the mail-clad shoulder, trying in vain to dislodge himself, but Denethor held him firmly.

What also disturbed the hobbit was that the Steward had taken also the palantír with him, wrapping it in its cloth and carrying it now secure under his other arm. Pippin could feel the hum and call of it even now.

At last they came to Rath Dínen and hastened towards the House of the Stewards, looming in the early light under its great dome. As they reached the door, Denethor spoke to the guard who then stood aside and ushered them through.

As the great man set Pippin down he could tell another order was given to the man on the door, who left immediately. Pippin looked around wide-eyed at his new surroundings, taking in the monuments, the engraved plaques and the lifeless but perfectly preserved bodies. But what caught and held his attention the most was a table with wood piled under it and high all about it. Next to it was a large cask, which Denethor cracked and then lifted so that he could pour the contents onto the wood.

Pippin backed away as the Steward moved towards him. The grim faced man had taken a flaming torch from a holder in the wall and the hobbit did not like the combination of wood, oil and fire. Perhaps now would be a good time to call for Legolas he thought.

But before Pippin could reach out mentally to the elf, he fell suddenly to his knees in dire and flaming agony.

****

Merry crawled on his hands and knees, his eyes cast down, not wishing to look up into the face of the Witch king. Before him he heard the terrified cry of a great horse and Théoden's voice trying to calm Snowmane. Merry backed up, realising that the steed was just in front of him and as he did so Théoden's voice came again. "Whoa Snowmane, Merry! Move back, back! Snowmane is hit, he falls!"

There was a terrible solid sound of flesh hitting the ground as the horse keeled over, narrowly missing the hobbit. Merry could feel the still warm body of Snowmane trembling beside him. Théoden had at the last possible moment pulled his mount's reins hard around and forced the stricken animal over onto his side, thereby missing the hobbit by inches as he fell. The King had managed to slide off as he completed the manoeuvre, although had he not seen Merry in time he realised the horse would probably have crushed them both. 

Théoden lifted his great sword, standing tall over the little hobbit who was relieved to hear the king whisper reassuringly "All right Meriadoc?" Then Merry felt Éowyn's hand touch upon his head as the warrior maiden stood beside her uncle, their kingly blood causing neither of them to be cowed or darkened by the terrible presence that loomed over them.

The stench of the foul beast ridden by the Witch king was almost suffocating and the Black Captain himself made no move against them yet. Rather the great black nightmare of living carrion swung its long neck forward and smote Théoden to the ground with a single blow, its ugly great head having the strength of a crushing metal ball.

As the King was felled, the creature screamed in triumph and turned its long neck back so the fearful beak could tear at the unconscious Théoden.

Merry looked up and saw the terrible white apparition of a king again. He clasped tightly to his small sword and reached up for Éowyn's hand and pulled himself to his feet with her help. As she lifted the hobbit her voice rang out in defiance, "Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the fallen in peace!"

A cold voice answered and Merry could see that the Witch king spoke to her and he was uncloaked now so the hobbit realised she would not be able to see the Wraith at all. "Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye."

A sword rang as it was drawn. "Do what you will, but I will hinder it, if I may."

"Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"

Éowyn's clear laugh was like the ring of steel. "But no living man am I! You look upon a woman and…" She touched Merry's shoulder, "a hobbit, who, though half the stature, is as great an adversary as any living man and yet not one."

"I have no fear left to give you." Merry's voice now joined Éowyn's defiance. "You have chased my cousin and me from Isengard to Edoras to Barad-dûr and back through Mordor and still you do not prevail. So do your worst!"

The great beast swung around towards Éowyn now and the mighty head caught the maid in the midriff, knocking her off her feet and swiping her body around in a semi-circle before pinning her to the ground.

Merry was not sure what had happened but he realised that Éowyn was no longer beside him and he stood, feet firmly apart, his sword bravely clasped in both hands, listening desperately for an indication of which way to strike. The Witch king he could still see, he was high off the ground, seated on, what was to Merry, the invisible winged beast. But the creature itself seemed to have attacked Éowyn. Then the hobbit heard a voice calling to him. "Merry! Merry! Unbind me! Unbind me!" At first he thought it was Éowyn, but then the realisation dawned quickly. It was his 'magnic' rope!

As fast as his fingers would work, Merry unwrapped the thick silvern cord from around his waist. The job was made easier by the fact that the rope was glowing and he could now see it clearly. Merry lifted the rope up, not too sure what he was to do with it at first, but then he saw, to his utter astonishment, a twin piece of rope suspended in midair, also glowing fiercely. It was the piece of Pippin's rope left there when he was attacked by the Witch king outside Minas Tirith.

The elven rope snaked out with astonishing speed to find its lost half and join with it once more. As the two pieces of cut rope melded together, Merry hung on hard, knowing that his strength of will was passing into the magical rope. He clamped his teeth and willed his strange ally to win until he was rewarded by the sound of a clarion screech of pain as the silvery rope pulled upwards, something obviously caught in it that tugged frantically back against the strain.

Éowyn felt the pressure on her back ease and then vanish, allowing her to roll over. She gained her feet quickly, sword still in hand and saw her adversary being pulled up by a noose of shining rope. Merry the little hobbit stood at the end of the rope, his sword in one hand and the silver cord straining in the other.

Without hesitation the warrior maiden sprang forward and smote the great head from its body. It gave one last death scream and Éowyn sprang backwards as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her and her hair shone in the sunrise. The magical rope slowly unwound itself from the fallen beast and returned to entwine itself around Merry's waist once more.

Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, but Éowyn could not see him. He was uncloaked and invisible. Merry moved quickly to stand bravely between the Wraith Lord and the place where he heard the maid choking back her horror. He looked up at the Witch king, still filled with horror at the deathly apparition, but no longer quaking with fear as in the past. His Lord and friend, King Théoden lay stricken somewhere behind him and his friend and comrade-in-arms, Éowyn was vulnerable to this tyrant. Merry vowed to himself he would die before relinquishing his stand against the white apparition.

The hobbit raised his sword and faced the ancient white king that only he could see. The apparition struck out with deadly force, the blade searing across Merry's shoulder blade and down towards his waist, cutting right through the leather jerkin and leaving a deep jagged slash across his chest. He fell back grabbing at the wound attempting to stem the blood flow.

As the hobbit fell, he saw the Witch king raise his great mace and he frantically called out to Éowyn as the metal star swung towards her. "Éowyn, your shield! Protect yourself."

Éowyn lifted her shield to fend off the blow, but nevertheless, as the great mace struck her defence her arm was shattered and she fell back in pain and anguish.

Merry gasped in horror. He was still clutching the terrible gash in his chest, which spurted blood like a red fountain, soaking through his small fingers as he tried to stem the flow. His chest was turning cold as the effect of the Morgul blade ran through the wound. He saw the apparition move toward Éowyn to finish her off and with shaking legs he pulled himself up to his feet and raising his little sword with both hands reached into his mind and gave the loudest mind speak shout he had ever managed.

_'YOU NO GO PAST I!'_

****

TBC


	5. Coup de Gras

Coup de gras 

Chapter - 97

Recaptured Continued

Author: Llinos

Beta and additional material: MarigoldG

Pippin moved his arms from the tearing pain in his chest to cover his ears. The agonising pain that had swept across his upper body had terrified him, he was sure it came from Merry rather than Legolas and the skull shaking mental shout that followed confirmed it.

_'YOU NO GO PAST I!'_

Pippin was vaguely aware of being picked up and carried somewhere. Across a room? Being put on a table? It did not seem to make much sense, but Pippin could not focus. All he was aware of was Merry's crippling pain and his iron determination not to yield.

****

Legolas watched Gandalf race off towards the tower, hoping he would be in time. The elf was not sure at the moment what the problem was with Pippin, but he knew the little hobbit was in some sort of peril, more than he could physically handle perhaps and he was glad that the wizard had heeded his warning.

"Legolas, we must rally the men once more," Gimli's voice brought the elf back to reality, "and the City guard needs to be deployed more strategically around the gate."

Legolas pulled his attention back to the matters around him. Three of the Captains were near enough to hear him and at their head was Malwyn.

"Captain Malwyn," Legolas went over to him. "I trust that we still have twenty two captains. Are the men in fair spirit?"

"Those that have survived the onslaught will stand true, Commander," Malwyn confirmed. "What are your orders?"

"I promote you, Malwyn to Lieutenant Commander and please let it be known that General Gimli will be my deputy should I be incapacitated. You will obey his orders or those of Mithrandir should I be unable to continue."

"Yes Sir," Malwyn stood to attention. "I will spread the word. In the meantime, Sir should we bring more men to hold the gate?"

"Yes Lieutenant, I see you are a well trained soldier." Legolas nodded reassuringly "Please continue."

The three officers moved amongst the men, reorganising their positions and checking that all were still able to perform their duties.

"Why did you appoint me your deputy?" Gimli hissed. "I am sure a dwarf can command as well as an elf, but not so certain these men will follow me!

"It was necessary friend Gimli," Legolas whispered back. "I have a bad feeling that the hobbits will need me soon." The elf shuddered as if with cold as a strange shiver ran down his spine.

****

Gandalf strode as fast as the steep streets and his flowing robes would allow towards the Great Hall. Just before he reached the door he heard a voice call his name as footsteps hurried up from behind. "Mithrandir, Mithrandir! I beg pardon."

"What is it?" The wizard turned to see one of the guards, a man he remembered from before, "Beregond?"

"My Lord Denethor, Mithrandir." Beregond said in a voice filled with urgency. "He has taken leave of his senses I am certain."

"Why?" Gandalf was not surprised, but even more anxious now. "What has occurred? Peregrin? Faramir?"

"I took Lord Faramir to the Houses of Healing" Beregond reported. "It was done without my Lord's leave, I confess."

"Do not be ashamed," Gandalf reassured him, "It was well done, but what of the Lord Denethor?"

"He is gone to Rath Dínen," Beregond pointed in the direction. "He says he will burn and will not wait. He has had a pyre set to do the deed."

Gandalf swore a Istari curse under his breath. "Went he alone?"

"No, he took the small one, the perian with him." Beregond watched the wizard's face grow livid with anger. "That's why I looked for you, I think he means to burn him too."

"He shall not!" Gandalf turned on his heel and, with Beregond in tow, set off for the domed building at an even greater speed than before.

****

Denethor was so surprised at the reaction from the halfling that it slowed his resolve for several moments. The little one must have seen the pyre and been aware of the destiny that he planned for them both, but as he approached, Peregrin had suddenly doubled over as if in terrible agony and now crouched on the floor, his body hunched up and seemingly unaware of his surroundings. 

Nevertheless, the Steward knew that he could not suffer the little one to live in the torment and agony that the Dark Lord had threatened. He carefully picked Peregrin up from the floor and carried him toward the readied deathbed. Although the halfling struggled and squirmed in his arms, it was not to fight him, but rather he appeared to be engaged in some other battle within himself.

This increased the Steward's resolve. He realised now, beyond doubt that he must destroy the physical body of this little one. The Dark Lord must be claiming him even now.

****

'FILTHY WORM! YOU HAVE JUST DESTROYED YOUR CHANCE OF AN EASY DEATH. I WILL NOT GRANT YOU SUCH A SIMPLE ESCAPE AS A SWORD THROUGH YOUR HEART!

The Witch King could hardly bring his spectral eyes to rest on the tiny entity that stood before him in defiance. He was torn between a desire to break it in half with one blow and to pick it up and squeeze the spirit out of it until it finally understood how inconsequential it was, compared to his strength and the power of his Master the Dark Lord. He had struck a simple slicing blow across its chest, cutting it and meaning to end it finally. But it had climbed to its feet once more. The Witch King had waited, watching it, expecting it to fall.

Yet still it stood firm. What could it possibly hope to achieve? Then it had challenged him! It was impossible! A mere insect was standing in the midst of ruin, upon a great battlefield of puny men who were yet twice its size and it held its sliver of a sword aloft like a dressmaker's pin and waved it at him. The Black Captain was about to step on it and end it once and for all.

But with the challenge had come something else, something unexpected. A wave of power, a strength of mind that was driven by a force outside of the evil apparition's knowledge. He had tasted this one's feelings before and been abhorred by them. The naivety, the simplicity, the innocent love, the fierce loyalty, the honesty, the devoted passion that he felt, that he would die for, that he would give his very soul for.

The Witch King paused and felt himself shudder. It was only for a moment though and he drew his being up once more and started to move towards the stricken King. He would destroy the monarch and leader of these foul horse riders and then set fear and dread among them until they fled before his black troops. Once more he was stopped by a great mental cry.

****

_'NO PASS I! GET IT BACK… YOU… WRAITH AT I!' _Merry was breathing hard with the effort of shouting in his head at the wraith. He found it difficult to focus in the shadow world and was buffeted from all sides by an ethereal wind that distorted images and senses. Although his stand had held the Witch King back it drained his strength terribly. Just as he thought his mental barrier was starting to slip another voice pounded into the fray with a new and terrible strength he had not heard before.

_'NOOOOT TO GOOOOO AT MY MER! NOOOOOO AT HE!'_

'YOU STUPID CREATURES – HINDER ME NOT – UNLESS YOU CRAVE A LONG SLOW TORTURE THAT WILL MAKE YOU PLEAD FOR DEATH!'

Although the Wraith Lord spoke with power, both the hobbits could feel a slight mental quaver at their combined onslaught. Where their new found strength was coming from was hard to define, but they had learned much during their trials and this could be their ultimate test.

_'Stand fast little ones!'_ Legolas was drawn in now. Merry no longer had the strength or desire to keep him out. _'Merry you have too much pain, let it flow out, I will hold it for you.'_

_'legolas?_' Merry almost quailed as he was reminded of the agony in his chest, but then he felt the elf kindly lift it off him, almost as if he were taking a heavy stone from his body and hanging it on his own. At first Merry thought to stop him, but then he knew that he had to accept the help being offered. _'thank legolas, sorry it go hurt you…'_

_'Think not of the pain, Merry_.' Legolas was absorbing more and more of the wound and now he could also feel Pippin firmly embedded next to his cousin helping him to form a wall against the onslaught of their enemy_. 'Don't take the hurt Pippin.' _Legolas warned him_, 'Leave it to me, you help Merry.'_

****

Gimli looked down in horror at the elf who was scrunched down beside the City wall, sheltered by fallen masonry from prying eyes. The dwarf saw a livid red streak of blood staining his friend's tunic and he suspected it was not his own. This made Gimli wonder which of the two hobbits had been so badly injured, but he knew there was nothing he could do to help now except watch over the elf and carry out his duties as General as best he could. 

Gimil, son of Gloin, drew himself up to his full height and stood proudly in front of Legolas, his axe held firmly before him, ready for any eventuality.

****

Gandalf pounded once on the solid doors of Rath Dínen with his white staff and they gave way before the Istari's power. He and Beregond saw at once the assembled death pyre that Denethor had ordered built and the Steward was now standing upon the high table, the fuel around giving off the stench of lamp oil, a flaming brand in one hand and Peregrin held firmly around the waist with his other.

"Stay your hand, my Lord!" Gandalf commanded. "You are not yourself! Think better of this foul deed."

"Enough wizard!" Denethor shouted. "We all shall burn, but this one first, I will not allow him to suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord, and I will follow him to this fiery grave."

Gandalf moved forward tentatively. Pippin looked dazed and far away, he appeared to be unaware of his surroundings but in deep concentration, his face scrunched up in effort. His thoughts raced to Merry and he wondered with horror what terrors Pippin might be sharing with his cousin at that moment. 

"Why do you want to take Peregrin's life? He has served Gondor with valour and you have rewarded him so, why would you treat him in this way?" The wizard was anxious not to force Denethor's hand as the brand was threatening to drop at any moment and the fire would certainly take both Steward and hobbit. Even a little wizardly levitation would not guarantee to prevent such an outcome.

"Fool of a sorcerer!" Denethor clamped Pippin tightly to him. "I must burn him to save him, of course."

****

Pippin was vaguely aware that something interesting, possibly even dangerous, was going on around him. Flickering his eyelashes slightly, he seemed to see Gandalf looking rather agitated about something. Someone else, the elderly Steward maybe, had a tight hold on him, squeezing him firmly against his own body. But whatever was happening Pippin knew that he could give it no attention, he was firmly focussed on Merry!

Merry's whole world at the moment consisted of one thing, a force that was trying to grow inside his head, increasing in volume and stature with every second. It was a mountainous white being that was determined to overwhelm him and drag him into a deep, dark abyss of death and lamentation. But Merry would not go and Pippin was determined not to let him, but if he slipped, if Merry should fall, he would not go alone, he Pip, would go too.

As the being multiplied in volume, both Merry and Pippin could feel the venom and malevolent evil that gave it strength, gave it the power to pull them down and suffocate them with it's cold white presence. It exerted a strength bought with many years of suffering, not it's own, but the terrible suffering and pain of others. It had taken men's own evil and greed and turned it against them, using their ambitions to taint the souls it bought so cheaply, always desiring more – more corruption, more degradation of its enemies, more all consuming power.

Merry gasped with effort and staggered a little as he stood resolutely before the monstrous white being with the crown. Then he wavered in his mind momentarily as he realised that the mental image was now twenty times larger than the reality. So this was where the battle would be fought!

The little hobbit summoned all his inner strength and reached out for Pippin's hand. They began to melt into one body and gradually, as their conscious thought joined so totally that it would have been impossible to distinguish one from the other, so their physical presence within the one mind merged together.

Each of the hobbits had grown in their ability to control what went on in their heads since they had learned to mindspeak, but now they surprised even themselves. Legolas was watching them, still absorbing and suffering Merry's pain, but aware enough to witness their incredible transformation. 

The combined mental being of _MerryPippin_ towered up to meet the Witch king. A tall powerful warrior they stood, the hair shimmering from golden to auburn, eyes flashing with a bright fire that changed colour from blue to green to turquoise. The pointed ears were sharper and the pert features were clearly defined, neither Took nor Brandybuck, but a handsome blending of both. The strong arm wielded a sword mightier than Anduril and struck across the Black Captain's arm, cleaving it from his body.

Furious at the assault, the Wraith struck back, but his blow passed harmlessly through the ethereal body of the great hobbit soldier. His blow now ineffectual as the sum of the hobbits' strength outweighed his own will. Then, as he wheeled on them once more, a great fiery mace now held in his remaining hand he saw in a blinding flash the source of their strength. It was driven by their lack of greed, their peace filled way of life, but chiefly by their glowing, shining love for each other.

In that second the realisation struck that there was nothing in the shadow world to pervert or corrupt the hobbit innocence and in frustrated anger the Witch king cried out – a searing screech that fell from the ethereal world to the real world and Merry the hobbit was once more aware of standing on a great battlefield, holding a tiny sword, in front of his direst enemy.

****

Denethor could see that Gandalf was getting ready to spring and possibly snatch the halfling from him. He would be ready. He kept a tight hold on Peregrin and moved into a position in the centre of the table so that he could set flames all about in a great circle before the interfering wizard could intervene.

Gandalf moved closer and held his hand up to try and stay the Lord Steward's intent, but it was too late, the torch was spinning around in a great arc as it caught the oil, instantaneously bursting into flames and igniting the fuel soaked wood in turn. Pippin was now slumped lifelessly in Denethor's arms and remained unaware of his fate.

****

Although he and Pippin had held him back in the netherworld, Merry knew he could not defeat this terrible enemy in the physical world as well. Éowyn was behind him somewhere, he thought she had been hurt, but perhaps she was able to still fight. He called out desperately to the warrior maiden. "Éowyn! Éowyn! Look in my mind – I can show you. Like we did before, can you try?"

Éowyn heard Merry calling to her and, ignoring the horrendous pain in her broken arm, still thrust into the shield straps, she pushed herself upright and saw Merry standing, blood pouring from his chest and holding his little sword aloft as if to strike at a much taller enemy. But there was no enemy there – that she could see. Théoden was lying prone just behind her and in front of Merry was the wreck of the great beast they had slain together.

She knew it was the Witch King that Merry faced and she knew he would not stand against him alone, not while she had breath in her body. Éowyn staggered to her feet and opened her eyes wide and then her mind, concentrating on the little hobbit before her with all her might, replaying the sensation she had experienced with Legolas when she had helped Merry to set Pippin's broken foot. Now, at need, she floated naturally back into the mind link with the two hobbits and the elf.

_'Éowyn, you see we in the mind now!'_

_'… know you well… yet you are both strange changed.'_

_'We most of belonged togethrer and be so strong.'_

_'They have joined Éowyn.' _Legolas's mindvoice was filled with wonder at the hobbit's transformation. _'They have melded their minds together to become stronger.'_

_'Look now Éowyn! See he now!"_

MerryPippin, with the eyes that were blind to everything else, showed Éowyn, and Legolas their view of the Witch King. They were also aware that they showed the same image to the Witch King himself and he realised that his invisibility would no longer protect him as the woman before him lifted up her sword ready to strike her greatest blow.

The Witch King saw the raised sword and stepped back from the onslaught, but as he did so a sudden great pain in his thigh made him lurch forward in agony. Merry the hobbit had stabbed him with his sword. The tiny creature had dared to strike a physical blow on his presence in this world as well as the other.

Éowyn, still seeing the apparition's movements in MerryPippin's head, followed through with a tremendous blow and smote the head from the deathly being. The white crown rolled on the ground and a terrible scream went up and echoed across the battlefield.

MerryPippin, Éowyn and Legolas knew they had to pursue the being to the end. His physical form vanished and there was naught left beneath Éowyn's sword, but in the shadow world the terrible king swung round on the 'three' of them to give fight once more.

The abyss loomed and between them they tried to push the being, now incandescent with rage, into the black void, but all were weakened and the fight was hard. Legolas fell back, Merry's pain still pulling his body apart and his strength all but spent. Éowyn, unused to fighting in such an arena and sorely hurt now, both by her broken arm and the act of striking the killing blow itself taking so much from her, all she could do was watch as MerryPippin, the great hobbit warrior, battled for victory against their mightiest foe.

The two wrestled on the edge of blackness, neither one yielding or gaining ground. It seemed as if the two forces could remain locked in turmoil until the end of Middle Earth, or until time itself stopped. There was only one solution. The hobbit warrior saw it clearly, both adversaries must go into the abyss together, or both must survive. MerryPippin knew the Witch king must not live – could not be allowed to live – so they would sacrifice their existence too.

The Witch King felt the hobbit warrior's decision almost the second they had made it. There was no time left to negotiate, it was immediate, there was no resistance left, he could not hold onto life in either world now, the end was inevitable. 

The abyss opened into a crater beneath them and tumbling in horror, fear and dread, the Witch King and MerryPippin were swallowed up by the blackness, a silence as terrifying as the cacophony of the living world, enveloping them in living death. 

But then there was a jolt, Merry pulled his consciousness out of Pippin's and threw his unsuspecting cousin out of the link with a resolve that was almost brutal. Merry had made the decision, Pippin could not die, he loved him too much. His own sacrifice would be bearable if he at least believed that his darling, darling Pip could be spared. With a rent that tore at his soul, he sent Pippin away, away from death, away from destruction and away from him. Forever! One last sad little echo reverberated in Pippin's now isolated mind. _'love you my pip, al-way loved at you, al-way do love you – evrer and evrer and evrer…'_

****

Gandalf's robes were singed at the hem as he tried to wrest the hobbit from the grasp of the Steward. He lost his grip on the little one as Denethor pulled Pippin back into the depths of the furnace and his foot hair caught light burning his feet. Gandalf leaned forward to make one last mad attempt, hoping if he shouted loudly enough the Steward might drop the hobbit.

There was suddenly a terrible and unexpected scream that filled the chamber and to Gandalf's immense relief Denethor, in shock, did let go of Pippin and the wizard snatched him up in his enveloping arms, extinguishing the flames that had started to burn the hobbit's foot fur.

Gandalf held Pippin close for a moment and then realised that the little one was clasping his ears in agony and that he was sobbing as if he would die of grief. It was in that moment that the wizard realised what the shout had been that had caused the Steward to lose his grip on the hobbit. Pippin had screamed – he had used his voice! He had screamed out loud, his rediscovered voice filled with panic and anguish, "MERRY NOOOOO!"

****

TBC

*****

A/N: When Marigold first started reviewing Recaptured, back in March this year, she in Los Angeles and I in Buckinghamshire, she said she hoped I would go all the way through to Merry stabbing the Witch King. Well THIS is that chapter and as I wrote it she was Beta-ing over my shoulder as we sat in the long gallery of a haunted Scottish castle. Over my other shoulder was the ghost of the Duchess of Sutherland – which certainly got us in the right mood! Hope you all enjoyed it – I know we did – not too sure about the Duchess though!  
Heddwch! Llinos

****

Q & A

August wynd: i have missed your story it feels like a while since I've read it  
Llinos: Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing.

Sage: you're gonna send them on vacation or something after this, right?  
Llinos: Yes to DeHarad in my next story – it's called 'Stolen', but it won't be much of a holiday!

Meatball: SAVE PIPPIN!  
Llinos: Okay!

MarigoldG: Go Bob!  
Llinos: In case anyone is wondering, Bob is our name for the magnic rope!

TTTurtle: But did you have to end it with such a cliffhanger???  
Llinos: Yes – whenever possible!

Tamsin FlameArrow: The hobbit version of "you shall not pass!" *grins*  
Llinos: Glad you spotted that!

Gillianstar: are Merry and Pippin gonna be blind and deaf forever?  
Llinos: See – that's a keep reading question.

Mistoffelees: 'YOU NOT GO PAST I!'. I know that wasn't supposed to be funny  
Llinos: No it was meant to be hobbity!

Shirebound: And Merry, brave, brave Merry!  
Llinos: Yay for brave Merry! (and Bob)

Sorrowful Eagle: I'll be biting my nails thinking about this until you post again!  
Llinos: Can you stop now? No I don't think so – better get some 'Stop 'n' Grow'.

Carolyn: Is Merry going to end up killing the Witch King? And you're not gonna let poor Pip be burned, are you?  
Llinos: Yes and no!

Niphrandl: Chilling!!  
Llinos: Well it's heating up now – especially Pippin's feet!

Baylor: I will be on the edge of my seat until you post the next part!  
Llinos: Thanks Jess – hope you didn't fall off!

Jay of Lasgalen: I'd got used to you updating nearly every day!  
Llinos: Sorry about that – I hope to be able to go faster again soon!

Thanks for all the reviews – I do need them to continue.   
Also just like to mention here that Recaptured II is also taking up my time as I am rewriting a lot of it – not just to cut out the NC-17 bits, there were virtually none anyway – but just generally to improve the story. There is currently a new chapter with Merry after he is rescued from Spandif and I am about to add more to the next chapter on those lines. So again PLEASE review and let me know what you think of the new version.  
Thanks Llinos


	6. Requiescat In Pace

_Requiescat In Pace_

Chapter - 98

Recaptured Continued

Author: Llinos

Beta and additional material: MarigoldG

Additional material: Prof J R R Tolkien

Legolas gasped as if it were his last breath. The ailing elf clutched at his still bleeding chest in anguish and opened his eyes wide. "No, please, come back!" He called to the thin air.

"Legolas? What happened? Are you wounded?" Gimli knelt before him, his face filled with concern and questions, especially as he could now discern tear tracts on the elf's white cheeks. "Merry? Pippin? How fare they?"

"It's Merry!" Legolas sat forward, the blood now seeping prolifically through his fingers, "He has gone completely and taken his pain with him. I don't feel it or him anymore." Legolas was more distraught at the loss than anything Gimli had seen before. "He leaves a terrible void in my soul where he once dwelt and now all I can feel is Pippin's overwhelming grief!"

"Young Meriadoc?" Gimli shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. "Are you saying he is lost? Is there nothing we can do?" 

"N-nothing, I fear. He is b-beyond this world now." Legolas breathed deeply, trying to master his grief.

"There was a dreadful scream, Legolas," Gimli steadied the elf with a hand on his shoulder. He whispered in awe, "is that what took Merry? It sounded like a wraith, but more terrible. All about that I saw, comrade and enemy alike, crouched still in horror at the sound."

"It was the Witch King." Legolas breathed. "It was his death cry." The elf looked up at the clearing sky. "He is defeated! Gimli it was the bravest fight! Éowyn and Merry defeated his physical form, although I do not know all that happened in the living world, but Merry and Pippin… I cannot find the words to truly describe what took place; they joined their minds and battled him as one being. It – it was incredible, a wonder to behold, but even at the moment of victory Merry fell with him. I felt his sacrifice, he could not prevail without giving of himself and Pippin would have fallen too, the Witch King had a pull on the one warrior they had become."

Legolas paused for breath, looking up at Gimli to see his eyes grow wider with every word. "At the last moment Merry pulled him and Pippin apart and sent Pippin back. Pippin lives, but is drowning in sorrow, his heart is broken, I fear deeply for him. But Merry is gone I no long sense his life force – he is gone – gone!" The elf dropped his head down into his hands and wept.

Gimli stood in silence, for the moment too overcome for words. After a while Legolas looked up again. "Éowyn lives yet. I feel her soul faintly, she is as one in death, but there is still life."

Gimli felt sore at heart at the dreadful news was at a loss to know what to do for the best, so he resorted to the practical, "Come," he muttered gruffly and took Legolas's arm, "see if you can stand. Lean upon me and we will go to seek out Gandalf and find some means to bind your wound."

****

Théoden raised his head from the mud. His senses were returning gradually, slowed by age and inactivity. When he was young, the king thought, he would have leapt to his feet in a moment, but now the effort to move at all seemed like an impossible uphill climb. He remembered steering Snowmane away from the halfling, who was crawling on his hands and knees, and then falling from the stricken beast. He remembered the terrible presence of the Witch King and Éowyn standing beside him, while brave, blind little Merry had tried to stagger to his feet. Then the fearsome beast that the Wraith Lord rode had swung its great head around. Théoden had not seen it coming until it was too late, so swift was the foul thing's movement. The hideous skull had hit him like an iron mace and he had fallen.

He remembered no more until now and as he lifted up his eyes he beheld the terrifying sight of the black-scaled beast that had attacked him. It was laid low and foul steam was rising from its decapitated body. Merry stood in the wreck of the slime covered creature, his little sword held up in defiance, but at what, Théoden could not see. The hobbit rushed forward to stab at nothing and Éowyn followed behind him, swinging her sword one-handed in a cutting blow.

At first Théoden thought his Sisterdaughter was attacking Merry, he could see nothing else there, but as her blow swung round there was an unearthly cry that reverberated across the whole land. A silver crown spun through the air and fell to the ground as if she smote off the head of an invisible foe, then Éowyn's sword broke, sparkling into many shards and Théoden knew it was the Witch King.

The two warriors had collapsed forward, each dropping their swords and clasping their ears as the cry had come, lying across each other and now Éowyn lay motionless on the scorched ground, her body shielding that of the little hobbit as the battle raged on around them. But as Théoden eventually managed to rise to his feet he saw that the sky lightened and the lowering black shadow started to pass away allowing the blessed sun to break through. But although the darkness was almost gone, it seemed as if it had moved into his heart instead. His beloved Sisterdaughter lay unmoving on the battlefield amid the ruin of the invisible but terrible foe, whilst he was still living. Gladly would Théoden have given his own life to have prevented this.

The King staggered towards the fallen maid and dropped to his knees at her side. "Éowyn! Éowyn!" Théoden cried, "Of all the warriors who should fall you were the one I could least spare, dearer than daughter." As he lifted Éowyn's still body up into his lap he saw his valiant swordthain, crumpled up into a tiny shape, lifeless on the ground.

"Merry?" Théoden reached out a hand to touch his curls, "Then you both are slain, I feared such a pass, but did not imagine to what valorous end you would come. To have laid low so terrible and mighty an enemy you have made such a noble and final sacrifice and perhaps too well have you both served your King and Rohan. Merry you spoke truly of the minstrels and ballad makers finding many deeds for their songs this day. And of all, yours and Éowyn's shall be the best remembered and most valiant deed."

Théoden felt tears spring to his eyes as he kissed Éowyn gently upon her brow and made ready to lift her up into his arms. Before he could, at that moment, there was a great clamour and all about them horns and trumpets were blowing. Théoden looked up, in his grief he had almost forgotten about the war, but now he saw that they were in danger of being caught in the very middle of the great battle. The conflict had swept past where they were and was now fiercer to the south but would soon move back across the vast field.

New forces of the enemy were hastening up the road from the river and from under the walls came the legions of Morgul and from the southward fields came footmen of Harad with horsemen before them and behind them rose the huge backs of the _mûmakil_ with war-towers upon them.

But northward the white crest of Éomer led the great front of the Rohirrim, which he had again gathered and marshalled and out of the City came all the strength of men that was in it and the silver swan of Dol Amroth was borne in the van, driving the enemy from the Gate.

Éomer, seeing his Uncle, rode up in haste and with him came the knights of the household that still lived and had now mastered their horses. They looked in wonder at the carcase of the fell beast that lay there and their steeds would not go near. But Éomer leaped from the saddle and grief and dismay fell upon him as he came to the King and knelt at his stricken sister's side, taking her cold hand in his. "Éowyn, Éowyn, you lie so still? I cannot believe you perish in battle. What dread foe brought this about?"

Théoden laid Éowyn back into his lap. "Your beloved sister and Meriadoc showed great courage and between them they have battled and defeated the Witch King. Although they fought together, it was scarce an even match. The Wraith Lord in his might scattered a whole éored and yet the tiny halfling and maid stood firm before him and, in the end, prevailed. The cry that you heard was his death scream, but I fear they have perished with him."

"So the prophecy had come to pass." A voice they knew made Théoden and Éomer look up in surprise. There was Aragorn at the head of the Dunedin seated on a great horse. "We arrive in the midst of battle to find the greatest deed completed by a fair maid and a small hobbit." He dismounted and knelt beside Merry's curled up form, placing his hand gently on the halfling's brow. "Yet it was foretold by Glorfindel that no man could defeat the Witch King of Angmar and so it proved. Even as my own prophecy was fulfilled, so too have Meriadoc and Éowyn brought about another." Aragorn could not prevent the tears that fell from his eyes and he shook his head slowly in sadness as he ran his fingers down Merry's cheek, finding no sign of life. "It is strange to think that even as I left you both to follow my own destiny, yours was equally determined by the fates. But the loss of your precious life, Merry grieves my heart sorely."

Turning him over the ranger saw the terrible wound across Merry's chest and the blood soaked shirt showing through the slashed open jerkin. "Such a cut as this must have been a sore trial to bear, and yet I think it is not what overcame you." Aragorn traced his finger lightly over the gash. "Did the Witch King retaliate?"

"I witnessed no such strike, the Wraith must have struck first." Théoden gasped at the blood-covered chest. "I am certain Meriadoc fought even after he was wounded. He truly had a great heart and valiant spirit."

Then Aragorn turned to Éowyn, cradled still in the King's gentle arms. "Éowyn, I did not know that you would ride to battle, yet it does not amaze me that you accomplish greater deeds than a man might attempt." But as the ranger touched his hand to her cheek he noticed a slight mist of breath upon his vambrace. "My Lords Théoden, Éomer," he held the metal arm cover there longer, so all could see. "She is hurt, to the death maybe, but I deem that she yet lives!"

"Éowyn! It is a Grace that you are spared." The King eased her armour a little looser and Éomer helped him. "We will take her to the City with due haste, and trust we are in time." Together they lifted her up as the King ordered the men to fashion a bier and on that they placed Éowyn to carry her into the City. 

Then Théoden turned to his heir, "Go now Éomer, you shall bear my standard into the battle, my fighting is done, my steed is slain and my rule is finished."

"Surely my Lord, you would lead the men on," Éomer pointed to the raging battle. "The day is not yet won."

"It is yours for the taking now, Éomer." Théoden said, "I am weary, when this war is fought and won you shall rule in my stead, I am too grieved for now to continue and I would see that Éowyn is given the best healing the City can offer." 

The King beckoned forward his two faithful henchmen, Drâmym and Ŭnomer who had appeared from the throng and had, with shock and then grief, caught sight of Merry lying at Théoden's feet. "Is there no bier on which to lay my swordthain?" Théoden asked sadly.

"There is none my Lord," Drâmym said, "But I will carry the Meriadoc from the field in my arms."

"Let him be borne forth as the warrior that he is," Théoden declared, turning to bend and retrieve his golden shield that had fallen in the fight "If no bier can be found, place him upon my shield. It is fitting that the noble armour, which he bore for his King, should now bear him from the field in great honour."

"Indeed, my Lord." Aragorn said as the King laid his purple cloak upon the upturned shield and the ranger carefully lifted Merry's small body up and reverently laid him upon the makeshift bier. "None but a halfling could fit such a pall," Aragorn kissed Merry's brow, "but it is fitting for one who slew an enemy no man among us could master."

Aragorn picked up Merry's sword and as he did the blade smoked like a dried branch and then crumbled and turned to ash. Aragorn laid the hilt at Merry's side and, taking his little hands in his he squeezed them gently to his heart before laying them crossed over the halfling's still breast.

"Goodnight, sweet Merry," he whispered. "I know the Valar will receive you with love and honour, dear friend."

****

Gandalf held Pippin closely to him. The hobbit was quivering and pressing his hands tightly over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut.

Beregond looked frantically from the wizard to the Steward who was now beyond help, his clothes were in flames and the wood and oil around, him an unapproachable conflagration. The smell of burning flesh was unmistakable and as Gandalf urged the soldier back towards the door, a mighty cry rang out from Denethor's lips and, still clutching the palantír in his hand, the last Steward of Gondor fell to his destruction upon the pyre.

Gandalf pulled the door closed behind them to shut off the stench of burning and set Pippin down on the ground so that he could take a better look at him. Pippin immediately flopped down to the ground, partly because his singed feet were painful, but mostly from grief and despair. 

"Peregrin? Peregrin Took? Do you hear me?" The wizard bent down and lifted Pippin's chin a little so that he could see into his face. The hobbit was distraught, tears streaming from his eyes, as he hiccupped great sobs, not aware of anything around him. Gandalf guessed and knew insightfully much of what had happened. Pippin had cried out, that could mean only one thing, the Witch King had been slain and the spell was broken, but by whose hand had he perished and at what cost.

"Pippin, Pip." Gandalf tried again. "I know the Wraith Lord is dead, I heard his cry and I know you can hear and speak again. Can you tell me what occurred?"

Pippin kept his ears covered but looked at Gandalf at last. He whimpered in a tiny voice, "Merry dead… dead… gone… " 

He sobbed and this time the wizard asked him no more but enfolded him in his arms, soothing his back with small pats and whispering, "there, there…" as he had when Pippin was a small child and had hurt himself or more often, been caught out in some mischief.

He remembered suddenly warm summer's day in The Shire when a group of hobbit lads had been pilfering in his cart while it stood outside Bag End. They had obviously thrown Pippin, the smallest, up into the back and told him to throw things down to them. But when the wizard had caught them with a roar the big boys had run off leaving little Peregrin Took, unable to jump down from the big cart, to take the blame.

The little lad had at first bravely stood his ground and claimed an eagle had picked him up and dropped him there by accident. When Gandalf told him that the eagles were personal friends of his and that he would check the story, Pippin had broken down and confessed. Just as the wizard said he would inform the Thain of his wickedness Meriadoc Brandybuck, who had obviously crept back to the scene of the crime, tugged at his cloak and, trembling with fear, had claimed it was all his fault, he had put Pippin up there, he was very sorry and please don't tell the Thain.

That was when Pippin had cried bitterly, saying he was so sorry and please don't punish Merry and they'd both be good for ever and ever and don't turn Merry into anything horrid! Gandalf had comforted the frightened little hobbit and patted his back and said he was forgiven this time and not to do it again. Merry had sniffed a little too, wiping unshed tears on the back of his sleeve and Gandalf had finally given them both a special ride on his cart. He remembered sadly the happy, proud grins on their faces sitting proudly up on the bench beside him as they jogged through Hobbiton.

Now in this tragedy the wizard held Pippin close again as he sobbed his painful grief that could have no end. In all his wisdom there was nothing, no words, Gandalf the White could think of to comfort the hobbit – or himself.

****

Legolas and Gimli had made their way slowly back from the Gate. Legolas was still touching lightly Pippin's mind, attempting to stroke and soothe him in much the same way that Gandalf was doing in the physical world, but his grief was too enormous to make much impression on it. Nevertheless he could feel the perian moving towards them, carried in Gandalf's arms.

As they came into view, in spite of the sun reaching through the cloud, a drizzle of rain had started and all the land seemed to weep with it. Gandalf, on spying Legolas and Gimli, hurried forward with Pippin carried on his shoulder, the hobbit's feet blistered from the flames adding to the pain of his broken bone, but in any case, too distraught to attempt to walk now. Beregond followed discretely behind.

The wizard set Pippin down as the two parties met and Legolas knelt on one knee as he drew Pippin to him, the hobbit burying his face in the elf's shoulder but still holding his hands over his ears.

_'Pip?'_

_'ummmun'_

_'Pippin, listen to me.'_

_'not!'_

_'Pippin, Merry wanted you to live. That's why he went without you.'_

_'not go be live… not got mer…'_

"Pippin?" Legolas spoke very softly, trying to ease Pippin's hands off his ears. "You can hear now can't you? And speak?"

Pippin blinked at Legolas, trying to decipher the difference between out-loud and mind-speak, "No, it go too loud," he whispered between sobs. The hobbit was so accustomed to his silent world that every slight sound was reverberating painfully in his head. _'it go hurt i much legolas…'_

_'All right little one.'_ Legolas turned to Gandalf, "Can you bind his ears with something just for now? The sudden volume of his newly found hearing is painful to him."

Gandalf nodded and took a piece of cloth from inside the bag he always carried, glad to have something practical to do for the hobbit, he bound it around Pippin's brow making a little pad over each of the pointed ears to muffle the sound for him. The wizard wondered vaguely what had become of the little soldier's helm, but he suspected Pippin had always found it uncomfortable in any case. "There," he asked quietly, "is that better?"

Pippin waited for a moment and then nodded. Gandalf was glad that he was taking notice at last, although he now seemed to be stunned and in shock. The wizard encouraged him to sit on a step, while he helped Gimli to bind Legolas's wound with more bandages brought by Beregond after which they bound up Pippin's blistered feet.

Just as they had finished tying off the bindings, they heard the sound of commotion coming from the City Gate. Legolas stood to gaze into the distance, "It is Théoden," he announced, "He walks at the head of an entourage, I think they bear the fallen into the City. I must go down."

"Wait Legolas," Gandalf lifted his hand. "This may not be the best thing for Peregrin, I will take him to the lodgings and perhaps you should seek some further help from the healers for your wound."

"Sorry I Gandalf." The wizard looked round in surprise. Pippin was tugging at his robe. The wizard had become so accustomed to the hobbit not hearing or speaking, he had forgotten for the moment that he was listening. Pippin's speech was still very quiet and muddled and interspersed with heaving sobs, "I want - need to - go at see who it – p-please. I think it M-Merry."

****

The sad procession was entering the City Gates as wizard, elf, dwarf and hobbit came to meet it. The people who stood back to let them pass were in awe at the sight. The great King Théoden led the cortège and behind him was borne a beautiful maiden, with flowing golden hair, but clad as a warrior, she lay on a stretcher, which was carried at each corner by a fair soldier of the Rohirrim. 

Following the maiden's bier was a great shield of gold carried by two warriors and, cushioned on a regal purple robe, lay a perian, his broken sword at his side, his chest bloody and torn, while his face, framed in fair curls, was deathly pale.

Pippin tugged at Gandalf's arm, "Please, put I down," he was still whispering, his own voice sounding painfully loud. "I have go see my Merry." The wizard complied and set him gently on the pavement and he stumbled as fast as he could on his sore feet towards the group.

Ŭnomer and Drâmym saw him coming and placed the shield on the ground with great care. Drâmym stood aside as Pippin knelt beside the strange pall and took Merry's lifeless hand in his. The grief that fell from the tiny knight was almost too immense to contemplate. Slowly he brought his face down to rest on Merry's cold cheek and gently kissed the still lips. Then Pippin curled his body around his cousin's as if the heat of his body could leech enough warmth into the cold flesh to bring him back to life.

"Merry, Merry?" Pippin whispered it frantically into the delicate pointed ear. Please not leave I, please come back. I love you Merry. I not live without you. I can go talk again and go hear now, can you see again? Please open your eyes Merry, please look at me, Merry, Merry, please, if you love me, don't go, don't go."

"Pippin, dear heart," Legolas gently put his hand on Pippin's back. "I think Merry has gone my little one. Come away now. You have to let him rest in peace."

****

TBC

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A/N

**Huzzah for Marigold!**

First of all I'd like to say a word for the unsung hero of fanfic – the Beta! I know different Beta's work in different ways and authors love/hate them in many different ways too.

I have a special kind of hatred reserved for MarigoldG. When I give my work to her, I know that it is perfect, because I am the "great writer" (ahem). Then it comes back and horror of horrors, it is covered in red marks! So just when I think I'm ready to post a chapter, I have to start work on it all over again! How could she do that to me? Suggest that any pearl of prose I have put on the screen is less than magnificent? 

Well, okay, as soon as I start to read through her comments I realise how much I've omitted, skimmed over and got wrong and that it is time to start the real work of putting it all right again. I think she puts about as much effort into improving my writing as I put into doing it in the first (and thanks to her second) place. So let's hear it for Marigold and all the other unsung, unrecognised and unthanked Beta's out there in fanfic world. Hip! hip! hip! Hurrah!

**Unashamed Advertising:**

In case you haven't read Moria's Revenge lately a new chapter has just been posted. Also, in the event you want to o/d on Llinos and Kookaburra we are now writing in a role playing game on Lords of the Slashed (yes okay it is slash). We're in the scenario called "Moria" and Kookaburra is playing Sam and I'm playing a nasty orc (type cast again!) called Nagash and we're interacting with Merry (Rufferto) and Pippin (Mercurinat). The link is here:

http://pub82.ezboard.com/flordsoftheslashedfrm38

****

Q&A 

Shirebound: STARS AND TRUMPETS  
Llinos: Well that's a pretty image too!

Niphrandl: Merry, surely he will not die!  
Llinos: Well Théoden got to live in this universe?

Brenda: But, you really can't let Merry die  
Llinos: See above ^/^

august wynd: but you can't kill merry!  
Llinos: ditto  
august wynd: if you do, you have to let pippin burn  
Llinos: Now that would just be vindictive and I take it you're a Pippin fan?

Mistoffelees: Here's a present for you, possibly Marigold, and Llinos  
Llinos: How kind – and it wasn't even our birthdays – no wait a minute – it must have been yours!

Devoted reader: Merry. He can't be dead!  
Llinos: See above – anything can happen in this universe – evil cackle! (No sorry I do love the hobbits really)

Baylor: Why, oh why, must you do this to your poor, dedicated readers?!?!  
Llinos: Um how many guesses do I get? I'm an evil witch? I don't spend enough time writing? Or err I don't know myself what's going to happen next? Um – it'd be the last one I'm afraid.

Herald7: PIPPIN SPEAKS! YAY!!!!  
Llinos: No Herald7 – he said "Merry Nooooo!" :-).

Roadkill Writer: Apart from what you've mentioned in your notes, are there any other stories you recommend? Preferably with Pip and Merry  
Llinos: Aha! Another chance for shameless self promotion! Yes Moria's Revenge, which I'm co-writing with the splendid Kookaburra. Marigold and I have a story which should be up soon called "Hobbits Abroad". I am planning another story called "Stolen" and Kookaburra and I are writing in a Role Playing Game as mentioned above. Okay self-promotion hat off, I would also highly recommend, Mainframe's "Brandywine" and her just started "Silence". Anything by Baylor, especially "I Always Know You" and the delightful "Splashing and Spluttering". Amayllis Sweetwater's Attractions. Although some of these are no longer available on ff.net so you may have to search a little – but they are around.

ShireMaidens: please this is gonna kill me  
Llinos: and think what it'll do to Pip! Sorry 'bout that!

Finally: Thanks for all the reviews – I am now off to try and finish rewriting Chapter 21 of Recaptured for the reposting that I am doing. In case you don't know I have changed it a bit from the original and there is/will be new and (hopefully) improved material. 

Heddwch! Llinos 


	7. Feelings

Feelings

Recaptured - Chapter 99

Author: Llinos

Beta and Additional Material: MarigoldG  
  


Pippin was crouched over Merry's still body in the first circle of Minas Tirith, a cloth still bound about his head with pads shielding his too sensitive newly restored hearing. Around him a crowd had gathered, watching in awe and wonder at the strange sight. A mortally wounded perian had been brought in from the battlefield, carried on the King of Rohan's shield, draped in the King's purple cloak. He was obviously held in high esteem to be born so, especially as the _Ernil i Pheriannath_ was mourning over his remains with such grief. So great was his anguish that it saddened the hearts of all who watched.

King Théoden himself stood at the head of the procession and born also was a fair maiden dressed in battle armour, but she appeared to live yet. There was some colour about her face as well as movement in her breast and she breathed, but the halfling was deathly white and moved not at all.

Now even the great Mithrandir himself was waiting by and the strange elf who had been put in charge of the City Guard, was trying to ease the living perian away from the pall.

At length the procession started up again with the King in its front next to Mithrandir who led the way. Behind came the stretcher with its four attendants bearing the fair lady. Then followed two tall men at arms, the King's device upon their tabards, bearing the mighty shield holding the tiny figure of the fair perian, closely followed by the tiny knight. After came the elf and the dwarf, their heads bowed in either sorrow or respect, or perhaps both.

The solemn group wended their way, guided by Mithrandir, to the Houses of Healing and there the Lady Éowyn was laid upon a bed as the healers began to tend her wounds. The shield arm was badly broken, but the sorest hurt seemed to be about her right arm, which was cold and grey in pallor.

The shield that bore Merry was set down inside the House, but the healer who came to greet them, shook his head in sorrow. "There is nothing we can do for this little one, you must take him hence to the mortuary until his grave can be prepared."

Pippin shuddered at the man's words and Legolas laid his hand upon his shoulder in sympathy. 

_'legolas! merry! not! not gone!'_

_'Pippin my sweet, I think you have to kiss Merry goodbye now.'_

Pippin looked frantically around at the people waiting. Gandalf patted his arm and Legolas looked at him sadly with his head on one side, Gimli shook his head in hopeless acceptance. Even the King and his men looked grim and full of sorrow. "Gandalf, I got go look at – no, look for Merry. He fought hard and I not knowded – know if he still be in he."

"Let us have one attempt." Legolas agreed, although he was certain it was futile, but for Pippin's sake he knew he had to try.

"Do you feel Merry now?" Gandalf asked them both. They each in turn had to shake their heads.

Legolas drew Pippin to him and touched his face, looking into his eyes as they both concentrated. Each of them reached out a hand to touch Merry lightly, Pippin his face and Legolas his hand. So silent was the wait that all breathing seemed to stop. Gimli shifted from one foot to the other but no other sound could be heard.

_'mer? where you go?'_

_'Merry dear heart, do you hear my voice?'_

Wait… a pulse… a beat… wait… nothing… wait… a breath… a pulse… wait

_'Legolas, Pippin, I fade, hold to me I beseech!'_

_'We are here. Do not go, you are safe now. Come back to us.'_

_'come back at we eow – it go good at you…'_

_'You are most sad, both. You have lost something? It is very dark – I too am most lost.'_

_'you founded now eow – come back at we – ope up eyes at you…'_

_'Not now – first I must sleep and find Merry.'_

Then the voice was gone and there was no other. Pippin and Legolas searched a while longer but looked up when they heard Gandalf's voice gently urging them back. "Pippin! Legolas! Come back now and tell me what you have found." The wizard was anxious that Pippin's desperate search might draw the hobbit too deeply into a vortex of anguish from which he would never recover.

Both elf and the hobbit shook their heads slightly as they opened their eyes to the light. Legolas looked up at Théoden. "Éowyn spoke to us," he explained, "her mind is lost and wandering but it is whole."

Théoden clasped Legolas's shoulder, "That is good tidings that you bring to an old man's sad heart. But you found no trace of the little one?"

"He abides no longer in our minds or in his body." Legolas shook his head in deep sorrow. "Sadly he is gone and he takes a piece of my soul with him, but I give it gladly."

Théoden turned to Gandalf and the healer, "Where do you let lie noble warriors slain in battle in this fair City? For wheresoever that be let this Holbytla – let the valiant Meriadoc, Swordthain to the King be placed to rest there until a tomb befitting his deeds may be fashioned."

"Gone. He's gone. Merry's gone." Pippin was defeated. He had carried a slim hope that Merry's soul would linger nearby and that he was not yet dead and that perhaps he could still be revived. But now all was lost and he could do nothing but grieve for his Merry and then maybe, if the Valar allowed, follow him.

****

"Here Cap'n, some good bacon with crisp rind on it. I toasted it fer yer special." The little orc laid down a tin platter laden with food, which besides the bacon included some hard biscuits with a smear of bacon fat and a dollop of boiled and mashed neaps and tatties. "Can I git yer summat to wash it down wiv?"

"Less yer got some ale there, I reckon not." Smagnu took up the plate and dug in. "Not bad, 's good grub," he snorted in between mouthfuls. He glanced over at Grutfley who was being handed the same. Even in Barad-dûr, where they had both had some authority and clout, neither of them had ever had such devoted service before. But then again, neither of them had ever seen any reason to treat their subordinates with anything other than anger and surly orders, delivered with the occasional blow or whiplash. Both Smagnu and Grutfley would have thought nothing of wringing an underling's neck – but that was before they met the little Pips.

Almost unknowingly, but never unwillingly, a change had been wrought in the two orcs as a result of their care of the halflings. At first Grutfley had suspected some kind of bewitchment and even the down to earth Smagnu thought there might be something faerie about the pair. But it didn't really matter what had caused it. Gradually they had learned that kindness and co-operation was far more productive and rewarding than blows and curses.

It was not that either of them was inherently cruel, their maker had long since stopped troubling to include that gene in their makeup, there was no need, orcs were a cruel race, it was all they knew. So when the two little Pips had come into their lives, with the naïve trust that the orcs would look after them and rewarding them with respect and, in Smagnu and little Pip's case, a growing affection, gradually the two rough orcs had learned something new.

Now it was paying dividends. The battalion of little slave orcs that they had inherited from the vicious slave driver had realised with growing surprise and then bewilderment and finally delight, that these two did not beat them all the time and if one fell it got picked up and if another was slow, a companion would be set to help it. Fights were stopped quickly and underdogs were not allowed to be set upon by the others. All in all it was the best treatment they had ever had and now they were showing their appreciation.

Smagnu and Grutfley were brought their rations, ready cooked and their water bottles replenished by willing slaves, who sometimes even squabbled over who got the honour to wait on their chiefs. Their bedrolls were made up and the best spots found for them. At least six small orcs waited around at all times in case they should want something.

At present they were camped along with a vast army of orcs and men in the Udûn, waiting for orders to begin the major assault upon the armies of the West.

"Cap'n?" the small orc that had brought the food was back. "I got some ale, it's not much but I tooked it offen the Quartermaster Sergeant when he weren't lookin'." He handed Smagnu a half full flagon of brown liquid that tasted weak but was undeniably ale.

"Thanks er um… what's your name?" Smagnu took a swig. "Hmm thass something I ain't had in a while."

"It's Sniggin," said the small orc looking anxiously up to see if the beer was well received. "My name's Sniggin an' my brother here…" he indicated an almost identical orc standing just behind him. "He's name's Bloggin. We was borned together."

"Right," Smagnu wiped his mouth with the back of his great fist. "Sniggin and Bloggin."

"Please, Cap'n, if'n youse don't mind us askin', me 'n' some of the lads wuz wonderin', is we all gonna get killted in this here war thing?" Sniggin looked round at Bloggin who was staring at his feet, they had obviously planned the question together and were very nervous about asking it.

"I don't rightly knows Sniggin," Smagnu admitted honestly. "Me and Grutfley here, we don't know too much 'bout politicks an' such, but you know how 'tis when yer've got orders and all. But as for getting' killed, yer just have to do the best yer can."

"Did you wants to be in this 'ere 'n war then Sir?" Sniggin nudged Bloggin now making him look up and pay attention to the Uruk.

"Didn't rightly plan it," Grutfley answered now. "We just sorta got caught up in it all. What 'bout you an' yer brother Sniggin? How did youse two get here?"

"We was jest slave workers in Khand, never knew what's to do, an' then we's an' all our others got tooked up an' drivened here with a whip." Sniggin sniffed and poked a finger at his twin. "He's got beat real badly by 'em others."

"Why? What'd he do?" Smagnu asked as he took another swig of the purloined ale.

"Says he don't wanna get killted." Sniggin explained. "Not when we don't know what's fer, but the biggun, the one you done in, he said he'd give us what fer, and he did an' all."

"Well there don't seem to be no good reason for getting' killed." Grutfley helped himself to Smagnu's flagon. "Yer right enough there, Sniggin an' whassaname."

"Bloggin, Sir, it's Bloggin." Bloggin spoke up for himself at last. "I ain't s'much as I'se scarded, but 's'all the same t' us. We gets killted or we gets whipped an' don't make no differences how we ends up."

"He's got a point y' know, Smag." Grutfley himself had never considered not following orders until the recent escapade with the Pips. "Whass the best we can hope for out o' all this? Not ter get killed is all I reckon."

Smagnu considered this for a moment. He too, apart from a little honest thievery, had never gone against his masters until the little Pips' plight when they had tried to kill themselves had touched him so much. "I don't know. D'yer mean p'raps we shouldn't fight at all? Or what?"

"Nah – I don't see 's how we's got any choice but to fight." Grutfley admitted. "Mebbe the question is, are we fighting on the right side?"

Just as he finished speaking, the acres of camp were suddenly hit by a terrible tremor as a great and dreadful shriek rent the air. As the noise echoed away into the black and lowering mountains around them, a great clamour went up from all the orcs and men alike, as they began crying out or fearfully asking their neighbours what they thought the noise could portend.

Sniggin and Bloggin had thrown themselves to the ground in fear, their heads buried in their arms and Grutfley clutched at his heart as if he feared it might stop. "What the fug was that?" The orc gasped in horror. Then when no reply came, he shook Smagnu, who seemed to be in a trance. "Smag? Whass up?"

Smagnu bent his great head to his clenched fists as if in deep sorrow. "I dunno." He whispered the words, whether through shock or fear of being heard it was hard to tell. "It's the Pips – I felt something dreadful. Little Pip with fearful grief because… because… It was new little Pip, I don't know what happened, but Little Pip felt him die."

****

"Aaahhh! Sam what was that?" Frodo held his thin white hands up to his ears in pain. "That noise, it sounds like the very earth and sky was in agony!"

"I don't know Mr Frodo," Samwise was shaking himself from stunned shock. "I never heard anything like it in my life… 'cept, it were a bit like those riders – the Nazgûl, only more so, if you know what I mean."

"Yes Sam, very like." Frodo had taken his hands down from his ears to hear Sam and they both crept up a little from the gully in which they had been hiding in order to survey the barren, comfortless terrain. "But it was as if it feared, or was deeply hurt. That's not something I would ever have thought could happen."

"I know what you mean Mr Frodo," Sam agreed. "But look there, it almost seems as if the darkness has lifted a little, if that were possible."

"I do not see any change Sam," Frodo sighed. "I see nothing but fire now in a great ring, a living eye. It fills my every thought, waking or sleeping. But I do **_feel_** something."

"What's that, Mr Frodo?" Sam turned away from the bleak outlook to gaze at his master in surprise. "What do you feel?"

"A mixture of things." Frodo frowned a little as he tried to sort out his emotions. "A slight lightening, as if a tiny piece of weight had been lifted, but also an enormous grief. Sam it's as if something… no someone very dear to me had made a terrible sacrifice and is being grieved over." Frodo clutched at his heart with one hand and the Ring with the other, tears ran down both cheeks. "I feel as if… as… Oh Sam – I think it's Merry and – and Pippin has lost him!"

****

In the Hall of the Tower Pippin sat cross-legged next to the still body and took Merry's cold hand in his.

"Oh Merry!" he sighed why did you make I stay?" Pippin was still having trouble talking properly "I would have comeded with you. Even being made dead with you is bettrer – better than being still 'live without got you."

As he spoke and stroked Merry's hand Pippin barely noticed at first the elven rope about Merry's waist had started to glow slightly but, as his tears fell upon the strands, the magic fibres had become imbued with energy once more. The rope started to shimmer and suddenly Pippin's whole attention was drawn to the unexpected light.

"Oh the magnic rope!" he breathed. Perhaps I should take it Merry and give it back to Sam if we meet again. Pippin's heart was filled with dread as he spoke these words with the thought that he might be the only hobbit of the Fellowship to survive. He began to untie the strands, trying not to think that this was a preparation for laying out his cousin's dead body. But as he loosened the first knot the rope started to unwind itself, snaking off Merry's body and twining around Pippin's fingers.

'How long it is.' Pippin thought, 'and what is this odd join in the middle.' All at once the idea struck him that this was not just Merry's half of the rope, but also his own that had joined back up with Merry's somehow. "Oh dear Rope," Pippin murmured sadly to the elven strands. "You go save at Mer and I so lots of time. I wish you could go have save Mer this one more times - time.

"If there is any bit of I that can go make Mer bettrer – better, you can have it – all I. I give all I am, all I might be, for Merry to be 'live – alive. When he go dead – I am go dead too anyway. Please Rope if you can take me go dead not Mer. I love him too much, too much for he to be dead. Please not let him be so dead. 

The rope tightened slightly and Pippin felt a tiny thrill of energy course through his body until the tingling reached his heart. He held his breath. 

Gandalf and Legolas were engaged in worried conversation, discussing what best to do for Pippin who they could hear murmuring his goodbyes to his dear cousin. Their gaze moved over to the grieving hobbit and they saw with astonishment a glowing rope spiralled around Pippin's wrist and arm. It was the rope that had been wrapped about Merry's waist when he was carried from the field of battle that was now entwined about Pippin. As they watched, the glow grew to a shimmering silver light and then to a brilliant incandescence.

The wizard and the elf rushed over to source of the light and Legolas touched Pippin's cheek lifting his face up to look at him. The perian's eyes were glowing brilliant green like two emeralds in the sunlight.

Gandalf looked down at Merry's still form expecting, what he did not know. But the little body showed no sign of life. The pallor of his face was still ashen and the blood of his wound had dried upon his chest. Not knowing what else to do they waited – but nothing changed. Gradually the light grew less and less and eventually it dimmed and died.

Pippin looked up at Legolas his eyes red and sore from crying and, now that the glow had left them, he seemed exhausted and worn. He held his arm up to the elf and sighed as Legolas slowly untwined the rope from about his wrist.

It seemed wrong somehow to take the rope off Merry now, so Pippin coiled up the loose end and placed it reverently upon the blood-covered chest. Then Legolas took Pippin's hand and Gandalf his other as if he were a small child and together they drew him up.

As they made to lead Pippin to the door, he pulled back. "Wait I Gandalf, I got go kiss Merry goodbye last time promsis – promise." The wizard let him go and Pippin tottered back on his sore feet and knelt once more at Merry's side.

"Night my Merry, sleep tight." he whispered, "love you all time, love you for evrer and ever and ever too."

Pippin leaned forward and brushed his trembling lips across Merry's cold face and tenderly touched their mouths together.

He lingered, not wanting to relinquish that special feeling that was his love for Merry and Merry's love for him. He knew he would remember every line and shape of his cousin's face but wanted to keep this last moment with him forever. 

A moment passed and another, Pippin could not pull away, he could not leave Merry there, could not consign him to the cold and lonely grave that awaited. He kissed his lips once more.

A pulse beat… Pippin's heart almost broke, almost stopped! He felt something. Something wrong. No something right. A breath! Where? Upon his lips! As he kissed Merry he felt a breath upon his lips!

"Gandalf!" he screamed.

****

TBC

******************************************************************************

A/N

Sorry this has taken a while, but I've been suffering from severe Marigold deprivation. She is oop north visiting a hobbit-free zone and we have had trouble communicating. I eventually wrote this chapter in a suicidal fit with the phone tucked under my chin as she talked me down on a fading mobile. I hope you liked the result.

Story Recommendation

I'd like to recommend "Losing" by Betrayer of Hope followed by the sequel, "Found". Yes I admit they are very sad, but very well written.

Also, if you can take a mean, nasty Merry dip into Amy Sweetwater's "Attractions". It's now on Nindaiwê I think or Merry and Pip Lovers Yahoo group. 

I spoke with Mainframe this week and she is very busy at the moment with an exciting course she is doing, but promises she is still planning to write "Silence" in the near future. Will update here with any further news on that one.

Don't forget the RPG that Kookaburra and I are taking part in, which you can just read or apply for a role if you are so inclined. It makes a good read in any event. The link is here: 

http://pub82.ezboard.com/flordsoftheslashedfrm38 and there is now a table of contents to help you around. The section of the game we are playing has the One Ring still in Sauron's possession and the hobbits are slaves in the mines of Moria.

I now have to potter off and write my bit of the next Moria's Revenge chapter – oh my a fanfic writer's work is never done. Good job I don't have one – a job that is.

Heddwch!

Llinos

Q&A (Although this might more accurately be titled "C&SR" i.e. "Comments & Stupid Replies" – I blame Marigold!)

Carolyn: Man...you're mean sometimes, methinks.  
Llinos: Youthinks? Methinks too! Weallthinks! (and don't forget Marigold).

ssi3 Thomas: Excellent, This the greatest Lord of the Rings based out there no contest or doubts about that.  
Llinos: Now I'm speechless!

meatball: *hugs Merry tightly* I'm not going to let him go!! Ever! *brings Pippin into hug  
Llinos: Just put the hobbits down and step away – and nobody gets hurt!

Brenda: I may be a little mad and upset  
Llinos: That's okay – we do mad and upset round here.

Jay of Lasgelen: I think your style of writing is changing slightly is it Marigold's influence?  
Llinos: Oh yes – she's the one who makes me do bad things – the little voice in my head. Not really Marigold. Marigold sits sulking oop North and refuses to come back until I apologise – Sorry Marigold.

Sorrowful Eagle: I'm lucky my bosses are in a meeting cos crying would've been hard to explain.  
Llinos: Say you got your fingers trapped in the keyboard and threaten to sue.

gillianstar: you're great but i hate you but ur great but i hate you  
Llinos: I often feel that way myself – personally I blame Marigold. :-) 

Periadoc: I have never cried because of a fanfiction before.  
Llinos: Oh Periadoc – am I your first? (fanfic tearjerker I mean) I'm proud!

zetawolf: I just couldn't keep silent any longer.  
Llinos: Oh please don't keep silent – I might do more bad things!

Niphrandl: How could you let Merry die??!  
Llinos: I don't know – it's beyond me?

Loréa: I need to know where´s the other part of the story  
Llinos: I have just re-written chapter 21 (which took a while) and hope to be adding more soon. The next few chapters need quite a bit of rewriting, but later on it should go much faster. 

Narsil: I have read the first 20 chapters  
Llinos: Glad you liked them – I'm gradually going to be adding more until both versions collide.

Baylor: I would leave a review if I wasn't OVERCOME BY GRIEF.  
Llinos: I'm glad you did anyway.

Roadkill Writer: I am sad.  
Llinos: How do you think I feel :-( 

ShireMaidens: whimpers followed by a small tear  
Llinos: Ohhh now dry those eyes – I'm sorry.

Floria Tosca Merry would be a grave mistake. You put Pip through enough trauma in Moria's Revenge.  
Llinos: Yes you're right! Hey that was Kookaburra! I invented Icicle to save him. Llinos polishes halo!

August wynd: you'll lose a reviewer-you wouldn't want that would you  
Llinos: See, this (your impassioned plea) could be what turns the whole evil plan.

Mistoffelees: "My dear child," Llinos said softly, crouching down and pulling him into a hug  
Llinos: Wow! Thanks Misto, I really enjoyed that hug!

TTTurtle: Or does he go jump off a cliff in desperation?  
Llinos: Now we couldn't have that – he still has work to do! 

Shirebound: I'm willing to give you another chance/chapter  
Llinos: Phew! Thanks…

I think that's all, but remember, I still need and feed off your wonderful reviews.   
Llinos


	8. Dead or Alive

Dead or Alive

Recaptured - Chapter 100

Author: Llinos

Beta MarigoldG

Additional Material: MarigoldG & J. R. R. Tolkien

Gandalf scarcely believed his ears when Pippin screamed at him across the Great Hall. The hobbit was so stricken with grief, added to which his hearing was still so very sensitive that he had covered his ears and he had confined himself to whispers up until now.

The wizard, with Legolas close behind him, raced back to Pippin's side catching his shoulder in alarm. "What is it, Peregrin? What's wrong?"

"Gandalf, Merry breathded! He did! I think he go 'live!" Pippin was rubbing Merry's hand with both of his and looking anxiously from his cousin to the wizard.

Gandalf looked sceptical at first, but the rope had been emanating some kind of power – was it possible? The wizard held his staff out towards Merry's pale face so that it was close to his mouth and, after a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity, the top began to glow with white light. "He's alive!" Gandalf breathed out, a long sigh. "Thanks be to The Valar."

He bent down over Merry and felt his cheek, which was still cold and lifeless. Then he placed his fingers upon the hobbit's neck and found a flicker of a pulse. Legolas had knelt by Merry and reached out to touch the wound on his chest. His hand came away stained with red. "He is bleeding again, we must bind the injury soon." Legolas touched the sympathetic cut on his own body, "I feel the hurt returning with Merry's life-force. The weapon that made this wound was a Morgul blade, but I do not know if there is a splinter left within."

"Then we need great haste indeed." Gandalf started to gather Merry up, the purple cloak wrapped around him as he was enfolded in the wizard's safe arms. "We must hurry to the Houses of Healing."

"Merry will go be good, won't he Gandalf?" Pippin stood up so that he could keep hold of Merry's hand as he was lifted up, cradled in Gandalf's arms.

"I don't know, Pippin," Gandalf's worried face was not as encouraging as his words, "but it is looking more promising than a moment ago, isn't it? Now let go of Merry for a moment so I can carry him. We must hurry."

*****

Gimli stood before the City gates and surveyed the troops at his command. He saw Prince Imrahil leave the head of his battalion to join with the other lordly knights and leaders to ride toward the Great Gate which now lay in ruin. The dwarf sent Lieutenant Malwyn to greet them and request they join him in council in the outer courtyard of the City.

"Who is in charge here?" Imrahil looked about the yard expecting to see Denethor or Mithrandir. The other leaders stood holding their steeds or remained on horseback, impatient to be off to battle, but also needing to know what strategy, if any, had been planned.

"It is I, Gimli son of Gloin, that now has temporary command of the City troops." the dwarf felt a little out of his depth in such exalted company but, true to his race, would never show it. "The Lord Denethor gave a written warrant for command to Prince Legolas Greenleaf and he is called away and has deputised me in his place." Gimli decided not to report the suicide of Lord Denethor at this time, as it could only cause strife and confusion.

"Well Master Dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin, what are your plans for the engagement?" Forlong the Lord of Lossarnach asked. He took most things in his stride, including a dwarf commanding a City of men, in place of an elf, who had in all likelihood replaced a wizard. "Have you a strategy?"

"The Rohirrim already engage the enemy on the fields of the Pelennor," Gimli waved a hand towards the southeast, and are joined by the Dúnedain. "The Guard of Minas Tirith can hold the City, if the main thrust of the attack is abated on the field. I would ask that you ride to reinforce the field to the south. Many new enemies assail the Riders of Rohan by the hour."

Húrin The Tall leapt back into the saddle, "Very well General Gimli, but have you no news of any kind of victory or is this battle as hopeless as it seems?"

"Indeed, your very Gate is shattered." Imrahil added, "and your leadership seems to be caught in a strange kind of dynasty, without meaning offence to you good sir."

"We manage as well as our fortune allows, Sir Prince," Gimli returned politely, "and as for victories, even now the Lord Aragorn, who could lay claim to the throne of Gondor, fights with his company of the Dúnedain." Gimli looked around at the proud faces of the leaders from the neighbouring realms and added with reverence, "but the greatest blow today, perhaps of the whole battle, has been struck already, and I would doubt any here could equal it."

"Come General Dwarf, are you telling us the minstrels have already their tales of valour, before we even reach the field?" Imrahil was perplexed at the small leader's serious stance.

"Indeed Sir, it would not be in your power to match it, for you are a great knight with manly strength of arm. This blow was struck by a fair lady and a halfling – together they slew the Witch King of Angmar and the halfling, Meriadoc son of Saradoc of The Shire lost his life in the struggle – my companions and I are still in much grief for his loss."

"Was that the rending cry that sundered the Overheaven with it's sound?" Forlong gasped in wonder.

"We believe it was such." Gimli confirmed. "Even as the lady struck the deathblow the halfling battled the demon in his soul and won the fight – with his own sacrifice."

"Then we must hurry as you direct, good General." Imrahil turned to the other leaders. "It will as Master Gimli says, be a difficult feat to match. Let us to battle without delay! There is honour to be won and today is a day for heroes indeed!"

****

Legolas carried Pippin through the streets balanced against his hip. The hobbit did not protest as, with his sore and bandaged feet, he had not been able to keep pace with the wizard and he did not want to lose sight of Merry. So when the elf had come back for him, after Gandalf had hurried on, anxious to get Meriadoc to the Houses of Healing as quickly as possible, Pippin had gladly held out his arms to be lifted up.

They reached the Houses of Healing where the door was opened by the healer who had sent them away before. "Why do you bring this perian here?" He chided, "This is no place for the departed. He should be taken to the ossuary."

"We were overly hasty!" Gandalf shouldered his way into the building. "This hero of battle lives yet. I suggest you find him the fairest bed your house has left and summon your most skilful leeches to tend to his wounds."

The man stood aside and then ushered the wizard with his burden along a passage and opened the door to a fair room where Merry was gently laid upon the bed. "He is yet very pale and his hands are as ice." The healer had quickly summoned other help before following Gandalf so that he could carry out his own examination of the small patient.

"No I think it is just that hand, his right, the one that struck the blow." Legolas was close behind, still carrying Pippin. "I felt it grow numb even as the sword found its mark."

"Yes, it true." Pippin wriggled out of the elf's arms and tried to scramble up on to the bed to see Merry better. Legolas lifted him up. "I feeled – felted - **_felt_** it too. When we – when Merry stabbed the Wraith Lord – it go numbed – **_numb_**!"

The healer began to gently loosen Merry's clothing and, taking shears, carefully cut away the shredded tabard and jerkin until he could see the horrific gash diagonally from the hobbit's left shoulder down across to his right hip. Pippin and Gandalf gasped simultaneously and Legolas pressed his hand and arm against his own chest that had bled in unison with the wound and was now seeping blood through the binding once more.

Suddenly the elf let out a shocked cry and chokingly stammered, "I-I f-feel so-something beside the pain! It pulls a shadow across my mind – Merry! I-I… he is sinking into the darkness…"

"Legolas! What you go feelded?" Pippin voice was close to panic. "What happen at Merry?"

Gandalf roughly pushed the healer out of the way and pulled Merry upright, although his head still lolled backwards. He took the hobbit's chin in his large hand and shook his face and then, when that produced no response, he struck his cheek with the flat of his hand and then with the back of his hand in the opposite direction. "Merry!" the wizard growled, "Wake up! Listen to me? Meriadoc Brandybuck wake up now!"

"What you do?" Pippin tried to catch Gandalf's hand to stop him striking Merry again. "Not hit Merry! He's ill – please Gandalf!"

Gandalf dropped Merry back onto the bed and caught hold of Pippin by the shoulders, pushing his face close to the frightened hobbit's. "We have to rouse him, Pippin. You and Legolas!" He turned to the elf who was leaning across the bed breathing raggedly but trying to compose himself. "You both have to find him now!"

"Yes in we heads!" Pippin readily agreed. "Legolas you go do it now?"

Legolas took a deep breath and pulled himself up to face Gandalf, "What must we do?" He was not certain exactly what was going on, although like Pippin he immediately readied himself for whatever was needed, but felt a little guidance would not go amiss.

"I am sorry, my apologies to both of you." Gandalf realised that Pippin and Legolas could not know what he knew. "You remember Pippin what happened to Frodo at Weathertop?"

Pippin nodded, his eyes widening with horror. "Do."

"I fear that Merry has taken a fragment from the Morgul blade and that if he cannot fight the effects in time he will become a wraith." Gandalf waved the healer who was still hovering anxiously, away. "You have to try and find him – his mind – and bring him back to his body or else he will certainly succumb to the Dark Lord's will."

"But can you do nothing Gandalf?" Legolas asked even as he settled down to take Pippin's face in his hands, "To heal him of the wound that is."

"I do not know." Gandalf shook his head, "I must probe the wound to find any splinter that may remain, but what is most important is that you find Merry so that he can fight against the power that will try to possess him, else he will become a wraith – lesser than the Nazgûl, but like them and under their command and torment."

Legolas gazed into Pippin's eyes and together they melded into the ether of their thoughts.

_'legolas?'_

_'Pippin?'_

_'where go we to find mer?'_

_'I don't know for certain, little one. Try calling to him."_

_'merry! merry! come back at i! please to say things at i!'_

_'Merry, my dear heart… can you hear us? Try to answer wherever you are.'_

They waited… a moment… a pulse… a little more… wait…everything was black and empty. An ice cold wind whipped around their feet and the shivers ran all the way through their bodies and chilled their hearts.

**_'merr-rrryy!_**_'_ Pippin cried desperately, **_'merrrrrryyyyy_**_! come back at i! come back you pip my **merrr**.'_

A small sound, too little to be real, too small to be heard by the casual mind. _'pip?_'

**_'Merry! hear i – please say more at i!'_**

_'not know how… too lost pip…it cold… so cold like ice… can't not come…'_

_'take hand i mer… feel hand it go pull you back… membrer it feel… touch you…feel it warm… take hand i… please mer…'_

_'taked it… no gone slip… not be here… you go back pip… can't come i…'_

And gradually the last few words had become softer until Merry's voice faded into oblivion. Legolas and Pippin waited for what felt like several eternities until at last they felt Gandalf shaking them into the waking world. "Come back, you must come back now, both of you." Pippin shuddered as he opened his eyes, his body felt chilled to the marrow and even Legolas trembled a little with cold, his cheeks blue and his skin icy to the touch.

Pippin looked at Merry's still comatose figure. "Gandalf we heared he. Merry w-was there and then he wented – **_went_**, he couldn't not stay. It c-cold as hundered wintrers in th-there where we lookted - **_looked_**." Pippin's voice was trembling, partly with emotion and partly from the bitter cold that still invaded his whole body.

"That you found him at all is a good sign." Gandalf looked critically at the little hobbit. He was exhausted and almost as pale as Merry. "We will try again later Pippin, but at the moment I doubt you have the strength to call him back. I will do what I can for the wound and try to slow the poison. That may help somewhat."

"…and athelas" Pippin added remembering. "Strider used athelas on Frodo."

"So he did." Gandalf agreed, "I have already asked for some to be brought and even if there is no fragment of the blade, it is a dire injury and will need much skill to repair." Although the wizard was still frantically worried about Merry's condition he wanted to calm Pippin as much as possible as he knew he was Merry's best chance of being brought back from the abyss he was undoubtedly trapped in.

More healers arrived laden with bandages, hot water, towels and healing, scented herbs. The first healer, whose name was Dysgwr, began to gently bathe the wound while another, a woman named Ioreth, cut away the rest of Merry's clothes and made a careful examination of his hurts. There were various bruises and cuts, especially a deep scar across his head which had been cut and reopened again and was now starting to heal over. His right arm and hand were cold like ice and looked slightly withered and grey in colour. Throughout the examination and after, when the hurts were cleansed and bandaged, Pippin stayed at Merry's side, rubbing his cold hand and breathing upon it to try and make it warm, but to no avail. He was constantly moved from side to side by the healers but, after a warning look from Mithrandir, none of them attempted to remove the small knight from the bed.

Eventually, when Merry was clean and bandaged and clad in a large white nightshirt, Gandalf tried to persuade Pippin to have some attention for himself. "There is nothing more anyone can do for the moment, Pippin," he said kindly. "We must watch and wait for the time being. But you should let the healers look at your feet, they are badly burned and you still have a broken foot. Also you must let us examine your ears, is your hearing still causing you pain?"

"But Gandalf – Merry?" It was all the argument the exhausted hobbit could manage for the moment. So Legolas took his hands and pulled him to sit on the end of the big bed, as the wizard shook his head sadly and left the room.

"We'll make you more comfortable Pippin and the healers can see your feet just as well here." said Legolas as he and Dysgwr unwrapped the bandages from the sore feet and began to peel off the grand but stiff armour that Pippin had been weighed down with ever since Denethor had decreed he should wear it and given him his knighthood. The bandages had stuck in places and had to be eased off very gently with warm water and the burns were painful and blistered.

As Legolas removed Pippin's shirt he saw that he too now had the stigmata of Merry's wound across his chest. "Does it hurt Pip?" Legolas whispered, "can you feel it?"

"Can…" Pippin whispered back and he leaned his head forward to rest on the kindly elf's chest, tired and too drained to do much more for the moment. "Feel it hurt, but not feel Merry now." Pippin gave a small sob.

Gandalf returned carrying a cup of milk and a plate with several white cakes. "Peregrin, if you won't sleep at least take a little to eat and drink." The wizard put the cup in Pippin's hand and one of the cakes in the other. Legolas went to take another cake, but Gandalf caught his eye and shook his head slightly without Pippin seeing.

Legolas understood and, once Pippin had eaten the cake, he put his arms around him and rocked him to and fro until the hobbit closed his eyes wearily. Then Legolas laid him gently down on the bed while the healer Dysgwr rebandaged his feet and dressed him in a clean, albeit oversized, shirt. By the time he was reclad in the shirt he was also fast asleep. "What was in the cake?" Legolas asked the wizard.

"A little ground herb they keep for such purpose. Don't worry, it was not opium," Gandalf smiled ironically, "I doubt that would have much effect on Pippin now anyway."

Legolas laid the hobbit down along the foot of the bed that Merry was in and covered him with a quilt. Then he laid himself down upon a cot that had been brought for his use as he too was in dire need of rest.

Gandalf went to see how Éowyn and Faramir fared. The Lady of Rohan was suffering from more than just a broken arm, a malady lay upon her that was as a deep and cold dream which the healers called the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgûl and those who were stricken with it fell into a troubled and then silent sleep and so died. But Faramir burned with a fever that would not abate.

King Théoden waited at the side of Éowyn, watching as her broken arm was mended and soothing her hand, trying to warm the cold greyness of her sword arm. He left her only when Gandalf brought him news of Meriadoc's survival and came to see how his swordthain fared. "It is surely a miracle, the like of which I have never witnessed," he gasped as he saw Merry's regular but shallow breathing. "What hope do you carry for his survival?" he asked Gandalf.

"I am not certain, his body lives, but only just." Gandalf felt Merry's cold hand and touched his brow lightly. "His wound is dire. It is from a Morgul blade and I fear there may be a fragment left, but such a cut is often fatal of itself."

"And if a fragment remains?" Théoden asked, "What will happen?"

"He will become a wraith and become enslaved to the Dark Lord." Gandalf saw the old King's face fill with sorrow.

"It grieves me more than I can say that little Merry has survived so many trials and performed such great feats that at the very last he should suffer such a fate." Théoden laid his hand on his faithful swordthain's brow. "Especially as he fell defending his King." Théoden leaned forward and whispered. "Don't give in Merry. Keep fighting – I know you can overcome this."

Gandalf went from one to the other full of care, and so the day passed, while the great battle outside went on with shifting hopes and strange tidings and still Gandalf waited and watched and did not go forth; till at last the red sunset filled all the sky and the light through the windows fell on the grey faces of the sick. Then it seemed to those who stood by that in the glow the faces flushed softly as with health returning but it was only a mockery of hope.

Then Ioreth the healer looking on the fair face of Faramir wept, for all the people loved him and she said, "Alas! If he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor as there were once upon a time they say! For it is said in old lore _'The hands of the king are the hands of a healer._' and so the rightful king could ever be known."

Gandalf upon hearing this felt a sudden lightening of his spirit, "Men may long remember your words, Ioreth! For there is hope in them. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come to the City?"

Then Gandalf went out in haste and already the fire in the sky was burning out and the smouldering hills were fading, while ash-grey evening crept over the fields.

****

Once Legolas had slept for several hours he returned to Gimli to share the burden of command that he had left with him and to bring him the tidings both fair and foul of Meriadoc. Gimli was delighted at first to hear that Merry lived. "But you say the Morgul wound may yet take him to the wraith world?" He muttered, "That is perhaps a worst fate than death itself."

Now as the sun went down Aragorn and Éomer and Imrahil drew near the City with their captains and knights and when they came before the Gate Aragorn said, "This City and realm has rested in the charge of the Stewards for many long years and I fear that if I enter it unbidden then doubt and debate may arise which should not be while this war is fought. Men shall pitch my tents upon the field and here I will await the welcome of the Lord of the City."

But Éomer said, "Already you have raised the banner of the Kings and displayed the tokens of Elendil's House. Will you suffer these to be challenged?"

"No," said Aragorn, "But I deem the time unripe and I have no mind for strife except with our enemy and his servants."

"Your words are wise," Prince Imrahil said, "the Lord Denethor is strong willed and proud, but old; and his mood has been strange since his son was stricken down. Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door."

"Not a beggar," said Aragorn, "Say a captain of the Rangers, who are unused to cities and houses of stone."

Then as the three approached the City Gate an Officer of the Guard came forth to meet them. "Lieutenant Commander Malwyn at your service my Lords. Pray whom do you seek?"

"Whosoever has command of your City now, Lieutenant." Imrahil said, "Is the dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin still in control here, or has the elf, Prince Legolas Greenleaf returned?"

Aragorn looked at the Prince in surprise at this question, "Gimli? Legolas? Excuse me gentlemen, Legolas and Gimli are in command of this City?"

"Yes, they both stand in command now, my Lords," Malwyn ushered the Captains forward, "Come I will lead you to them." They made their way through the Gates and by the time the delegation reached Legolas and Gimli the two had been joined by Gandalf.

"Well met Mithrandir," Imrahil was pleased to see a familiar face at last. "Have you taken charge here now?"

"I may provide some assistance to my worthy companions." Gandalf nodded to Gimli and Legolas, "But first I need the service of the Captain of the Dúnedain, for the healing hand of the King is needed and such he is."

Aragorn stepped forward and clapped Legolas and Gimli on the shoulders, "I see our fortunes have moved in a direction that would have been hard to foresee my friends. But there is not the time for travellers' tales yet." He turned to Gandalf, "What is the need that is so urgent you would reveal my heritage?"

"Much has occurred today, but the need we have is for speed. The Lord Denethor gave up all hope and took his own life and now his son, the Lord Faramir is stricken with fever. Also the Lady Éowyn," Gandalf paused and turned to Éomer as he spoke. "She suffers under the Black Shadow. The hands of the rightful King of Gondor may be the only hope they have for recovery."

"I will of course come at once." Aragorn bowed courteously to the other Lords and Knights. "You must forgive me if I take leave of you so soon."

"If you are to provide succour to my fair sister I will of course come too," Éomer said. "I wish also to see how fares my uncle, Théoden King."

"But there is more," Gandalf levelled his gaze at Aragorn, "Meriadoc – he is still alive although we thought him dead – but still he lies grievously ill."

"Merry lives?" Aragorn drew a sharp breath. "Then miracles are still possible in these dark days and hope also lives on."

****

When Aragorn came to the Houses of Healing, Pippin had woken from his enforced slumber and was sitting beside Merry on the bed, stroking his hair and rubbing his hand, trying to find some reaction in him, but apart from his breathing, there was none.

The uncrowned King went first to Faramir and then Éowyn and last to Merry. He could see that the malady of the wraith lay heavily on all of them and he asked the healer Ioreth for a supply of athelas or kingsfoil and eventually some was found. The leaves bruised in hot water worked their magic in the hands of Aragorn and Faramir awoke and although he would be confined to bedrest for some time to come, was soon out of danger for his life and the fever abated.

Éowyn lay cold and motionless until Aragorn called her back. He crushed the athelas in his hand and when she came to herself he spoke gently with her, then left her in the care of Théoden and Éomer.

Aragorn came to Merry. He saw Pippin's anxious face and took his hand gently but was taken aback as Pippin sniffed and then mumbled, "he not go move Strider and Merry no go come back at I – **_me_**."

"When did your voice return Pippin?" Aragorn lifted the hobbit's chin up so he could look into his face. "your hearing too?"

"I think it go back when Merry and Éow killed at the wraith." Pippin was still muddled in his speech, he could not quite remember yet the right words or order and while Legolas and Gandalf understood that, Aragorn was a little surprised at his lack of grammar.

"Why do you talk so strangely?" The ranger asked with a small smile. "Although it is good to hear you again in any vernacular."

"I not mean go talk – **_to talk_** like it - **_this_**." Pippin started trying to correct himself. "It how I talk in head I – I mean Mer and I talk at not same – it turns round, sorry." The more Pippin tried to get his speech right, the harder it seemed to get.

"Never mind little one," Aragorn saw that Pippin was rather distressed and did not want him to worry about minor details like his speech patterns. "Let us see what can be done for Merry." 

"I am not sure that you will be able to call Merry back as you did the other two." Gandalf pulled the covers back from the halfling and carefully unwrapped the bandages from Merry's chest. "This was inflicted by the Wraith King before Éowyn and Merry defeated him. I fear there may be a sliver of blade left in the wound."

Aragorn looked up at Gandalf with concern and saw his own anxiety reflected in the wizard's eyes. "Has he been conscious at all? Could you tell yet?"

"No." Gandalf glanced at Pippin who was listening carefully, not wanting to miss any information. "We fear his mind is trapped after his conflict with the Witch King." Legolas had explained to Gandalf about the great battle Pippin and Merry had had and how at the last Merry had pushed Pippin away to fall into the abyss with their enemy. "Legolas and Pippin have tried to bring him back and they found him for a moment but he could not return."

"It is important that he does." Aragorn could not shield Pippin from the truth. "I fear to think what torment he is suffering now. But if he does not return to his body, not only will he be lost forever and become a wraith but the Dark Lord will hold him as a slave. The danger to all then increases for he may yet reveal the truth of the Ring."

*****

TBC  
  


A/N

Chapter 100!! Party! Party! Party! Just to celebrate, this chapter is probably the longest in the story at over 5,500 words so hope you all enjoy it!

Marigold and I bought our tickets for TTT today!! More party! Yay! Correction – we rather sadly bought tickets for the 18th and 19th – just in case it turns out that we like it!

"Gee do you think we might?" she just said in my ear.

Yes people she is beta-ing in my ear and depriving me of sleep and sweets unless I write more!

Once again – many, trillion and one thanks for all the lovely reviews, I do appreciate every single one and so does Marigold (she's moaning at me to tell you that!) So from both of us – Thank you very much!

Story Plug! 

Marigold and I have just posted a joint story "Hobbits Abroad". The driving force behind this is Marigold so if it's slow in posting please email your complaints directly to her VBEG

Also Baylor has posted a new story called "The Care and Feeding of Hobbits" which we highly recommend. (Especially as we helped beta it).

Q&A

shirebound: I promised to give you one more chance/chapter.  
Llinos: Okay – so am I still on parole?

Kookaburra: Who was it that wrote all of the graphic scenes in chapter 7!?  
Llinos: Well only because you made me! :-) 

ShireMaidens: Oh Holy Valar! My Merry is alive!!!!!!!  
Llinos: Well maybe – then again?

Zetawolf: How did everyone know what had happened to Merry and Pip?  
Llinos: Good question – except I don't understand it – Legolas knew and Éowyn knew and Pippin knew and you knew because I told you.

Freakish Lemon: When you post 100, me and my friends are going to throw a party   
Llinos: Hope you enjoy it – save me some cake!

Mistoffelees MERRY'S NOT DEAD!  
Llinos: Just keep saying that and it might come true. Do you believe in hobbits? If you do clap your hands!

Floria Tosca: Were you consciously using a Sleeping Beauty or Snow White allusion in the last scene of this chapter? Either way, it was good. Would I be right in assuming that Merry and Pip aren't out of the woods yet?   
Llinos: No – good – and no.

Baylor: -Hallelujah chorus playing loudly in the background—Followed by Baylor poetry.   
Llinos: If I weren't so tired I'd write one back – but Marigold makes me work all night (no it doesn't seem right) So I'm not just slack or lost the knack – I just can't be bothered. But thanks for yours! 

Pepper: good luck with chapter 100 and I can't wait to read it.   
Llinos: Now you don't have to.

Brenda: Could you really be bringing Merry back? Well, you and Kookaburra brought back Icicle  
Llinos: I only let K kill her on condition I could bring her back! But Merry – well we'll see!

TTTurtle , but there could still be endless twists and turns before they are out of the woods methinks??  
Llinos: But of course!

Niphrandl If Merry survives I will continue to read this story.  
Llinos: But if you don't read – how will you know? (evil chortle)

August wynd: i'll keep reviewing-i would anyway  
Llinos: That's what I like to hear! Good on yer!

Roadkill Writer: Do have an idea of how Recaptured will end? Don't tell me how if you do, but I was wondering if the topic is open for debate. I'm not Marigold, but I wanna mess with this story as much as the rest of your devoted fans!  
Marigold answers: Put down my author and step away from the story and nobody gets hurt! (except possibly Merry and probably Pippin – and sometimes Legolas.)

Lady Myself I hope that my review is not so bad...  
Llinos: There's no such thing as a bad review. PS Marigold says do you live in Paris? She is visiting soon.

Tamsin FlameArrow: it's like the separate threads are interwoven yet again   
Llinos: I've been taking knitting lessons – but glad you like it :-).

meatball: dances with Pippin*  
Llinos: Awww, remember his sore footsies!

gillianstar ! CAN WE SAY CLIFFHANGER  
Llinos: Unlike this chapter VBG Glad you like the details – Marigold mostly makes me do them! (She bullies me!)

pamesane: please write more I can`t wait.......pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaassse  
Llinos: Okay – as you said "please" so nicely.

Heddwch! 

Llinos


	9. Tales and Toil

Tales and Toil 

Recaptured Chapter 101

Author: Llinos

Beta and Additional Material: Marigold

_'Merry, my dear heart… can you hear us? Try to answer wherever you are.'_

He knew they wanted him, but it was too far and the snow was too deep. He could not push his way through the suffocating drift.

**_'merr-rrryy!_**_'_ It was Pippin's voice of course, **_'merrrrrryyyyy_**_! come back at i! come back you pip my **merrr**.' _But how could he answer? He did not want them to come in here, Pippin would not be able to withstand the mind wrenching cold and he could not bear the thought of him suffering so.__

But in spite of himself, something within him compelled a response. He had not meant to answer, it was not planned, but the name slipped from his mind like a dewdrop from a petal or a leaf from a tree, it was as natural as taking a breath and so it whispered through the empty void that separated them, _'pip?_'

**_'Merry! hear i – please say more at i!'_**

Pippin's voice had grown excited at his tiny response. He should have known, should have been more cautious. He knew Pippin would follow him just as night follows day. How could he not? He would have done the same. But it was too dangerous. Too fraught with terror, he could not let Pippin come with him in here. He had to send him back. 

_'not know how… too lost pip…it cold… so cold like ice… can't not come…'_

He had not expected Pippin to agree at once, he had expected Pippin's defiance, his anger, his stubborn refusal.__

_'take hand i mer… feel hand it go pull you back… membrer it feel… touch you…feel it warm… take hand i… please mer…'_

What he got was Pippin's unconditional love – it was too much to bear. His soul clenched and his heart broke. He faltered… he reached… 

_'taked it… no gone slip… not be here… _

No! He would be strong.__

_you go back pip… can't come i…'_

He felt the thrum of Pippin recede. There was a slight echo of dear Legolas and then they both were gone. 

He turned back to his labour, his legs were carved from solid rock and each step was a torment. His back carried a mighty burden that weighed more than they had ever asked poor Bill the pony to bear, he could barely move for the size of it. His stomach growled and knotted with the pain of hunger. He lifted his hand to his chest and whimpered with the agony of the wound that wasted his lifeblood and watched with horror as it stained the snow around him to a garish crimson. The cold had frozen his curls so that they might snap and he was sure his face had turned blue as it had on Caradhras, but he could not turn back. The nightmare that lay all about him would consume him if he remained still.

But of all this torment the greatest pain he felt was the sudden absence of Pippin. He had sent him away because he must, but why did it have to hurt so much? His heart could no longer ache and cry within him – it was numb, broken and dead.

****

"Pippin I know you are still unwell," Gandalf looked kindly down at the hobbit, "and you are frightened for Merry, but I need to know exactly what went on between you and Denethor. Do you think you can tell it all?"

Pippin looked from Aragorn to Gandalf in dismay. He was so frantically worried about Merry that, in spite of the traumatic events that had taken place in the high tower, he had almost put them to the back of his mind. Now he realised that many important things had transpired that he really did need to tell the wizard about. "Go try I will."

Gandalf decided to take Pippin to another room, away from Merry as his sickly cousin's presence would be too distracting for the younger hobbit to concentrate on the details of his story. The wizard also summoned Legolas to come, as Gandalf knew Pippin found him a calming influence and the elf needed also to know what had happened and with him came Lieutenant Malwyn. The Warden of the Houses of Healing came to discover any information that might help with the treatment of his patients. Also Théoden and Prince Imrahil as leaders of the allies of Gondor, together with Aragorn joined the meeting.

Pippin sat uncomfortably in an oversized chair in the centre the large room allotted for their council and waited until Gandalf had explained who he was and how he had come to be with Denethor shortly before and during the Steward's untimely demise. "Now Peregrin," The wizard turned to him, "are you able to recount what happened?"

"Yes think can tell it I," Pippin stumbled over his speech. "Not always get words right for talking loud yet sorry."

"Peregrin was without hearing and speech until very recently," Gandalf explained briefly for those who did not know. "His newly restored faculties are still a little shaky." The wizard looked down and smiled kindly at Pippin. "Don't worry Peregrin, do your best we will be patient."

"First I ate meal at Den-ay-tor," Pippin began shakily.

"The Lord Denethor…" Gandalf corrected gently.

"Yes, Lord **_Denethor_**," the hobbit managed on the second attempt. "He taked - **_took_** I to room other at end of hall. We goed up stairs and he keeped - **_kept_** room lockted - **_locked_**." Pippin looked around cautiously to see if everyone was following him. He knew the words sounded odd, he just could not quite get them right yet.

"Wented we inside it and I knewed – **_knew_** what there it was." Pippin glanced nervously at Gandalf. "It glass ball for look in it."

"The palantír," explained the wizard. "Pippin why did you not call to Legolas when you knew what it was?" 

Gandalf did not sound angry, but Pippin knew that he should have resisted the call of the magical globe. He thought for a moment. "Not know – but I had taked – **_taken_** some… it was bad but I hurted and I needed it…"

Aragorn looked suspiciously at the hobbit whose eyes were steadfastly fixed to the floor. "Opium? Was that it? Pippin?"

Pippin nodded and mumbled an affirmative. "But Lord Denethor nodded good at I to take it and I might have takened – **_taken_** a bit much too."

"Where for pity's sake did you get it?" Aragorn stepped forward and lifted Pippin's chin up so that he looked him in the eye. "Who gave it to you?"

"I gave it to him!" Legolas knew that Pippin would not betray him, but he also knew that Aragorn would insist on knowing, especially as it was he that had introduced the hobbit to the narcotic in the first place. "He was in dire need and I reasoned that he understood enough by now not to abuse its use."

"…and I suspect you felt a need to touch the palantír as well." Gandalf added. He knew only too well that the seeing stones had a compulsion all their own.

"Did." Pippin agreed, "more than the poppy really it was."

"But why did Lord Denethor take you to the seeing stone?" Théoden asked. He could not imagine what the Steward's reasoning could be. The other leaders pressed for an explanation too, until Pippin was in danger of becoming overwhelmed by the rising hubbub.

"Peace." Gandalf rose and stooped down to Pippin's eye level. "Just tell us in your own words what happened, Peregrin, don't try to hide anything. No one is angry at anything you did."

Gandalf stood up and moved to one side, still keeping a protective hand on the hobbit's shoulder. Pippin looked nervously round and continued. "He wanted I show at him Boromir and… how he did fall… it was… very… sad at he and at I too… for I see it all again too. I could not talked at he and tell him what happended **_happened_** and so I think he want see it heself, **_himself_**."

"But you had told him already through me, Pippin." Legolas reminded him. "He knew what had happened." 

"Know he did, but it was anothrer **_another_** thing I think. He knowed **_knew_** that I been in glass ball before and he be go look at it much times he before this times."

"You mean the Lord Denethor had looked into the palantír on many occasions?" The Warden exclaimed, not too sure if he had understood the perian correctly. "Then the rumours were true!"

"What rumours were these?" asked Prince Imrahil growing more confused at the strange tale.

"That the Lord Denethor was losing his mind." The Warden explained. "It had long been rumoured that he battled nightly with some enemy, possibly the Dark Lord himself, in the dark tower. Strange lights were seen in the topmost chamber many times and when he emerged, it is said, he looked worn and broken."

"He may well have encountered Sauron himself," agreed Gandalf. "We know for certain that he had a palantír, so it is reasonable to assume that was the case. Pippin what do you know of this?"

"There was anothrer – **_another_** in palantír." Pippin's voice became almost inaudible. "He see I when I tell story of Boromir."

"Go on." Gandalf encouraged. "Don't hurry and leave nothing out."

"It not like to talk with Legolas." Pippin continued. "It show pictures most time not words. We both seeded - **_saw_** pictures in palantír of what happened and I am seeing Merry and me and other one looked so I made Merry got no face." Pippin drew a deep breath. "I show Lord Denethor whole all of what happened and other one still look and look. But then I finish and Lord hit I hard across face, but I know it is not he that did the hit."

"Who was it, little one?" asked Théoden concerned and worried now for the danger Pippin had been in. "Who hit you?"

"Was it Sauron?" Aragorn snapped at the hobbit in a flash of panic.

"Yes, it he." Pippin looked fearfully at the ranger. But Gandalf shook his head slightly at Aragorn as he realised he was about to panic the hobbit. Aragorn reined in his expression and smiled weakly at Pippin giving him the confidence to continue. "He and Wraith Lord both. But I make them blind at I," he added quickly.

"How did you do that Pippin?" Gandalf was torn between surprise and scepticism. But he remembered that Legolas had reported such an event and had told him how strong Pippin had grown.

"I make wall in head." Pippin announced. "Not let thoughts go out at they. Then Lord Denethor get too bad and think it all gone dead. He seeing City fall and burn and burn, not think that anything can help he or City evrer – **_ever_**. So I try make him see it not all lost but I make careful not to show he things so secret, but I make little mistrake."

"What Pippin? What did you show him?" Gandalf's eyes had grown wide now. "You did not show him Frodo did you?"

"Not." Pippin agreed. "Not even think it, but try tell him help is to come and then thinked about riders come. I think he see and I think he see…" Pippin's voice grew so quiet that the assembled company could not hear the last few words.

"Pippin?" Legolas knelt beside him and gently took his hand. "It was Merry, wasn't it? Remember I could share your thoughts, I saw it too."

"Think I showed Merry. Sorry not mean to do, but he go be in my mind all time and then…"

"Pippin, dear heart," Legolas whispered, "I know what you did, then and later. You have no need to reproach yourself, you were very strong and very brave."

But Pippin still felt guilty at what he saw as a betrayal, "…not mean to do… sorry, sorry…Mer…my fault it all be bad at you…"

Pippin knew better than to cry now in such austere company, but he was coming close. Gandalf decided it was time to move on. "What happened after that Pippin? Can you remember how you got to Rath Dínen?"

Pippin held up his hands that were still a little raw from the ordeal. "I make my hands go off from palantír and I felled down on by the wall. It pulled like I was stuck on ice." He explained. "But Lord Denethor he still go on palantír and can feel he see things from Dark Lord, make him very black and I am know it not true, but he, Lord Denethor think is true."

Pippin's statement caused much surprise and cross discussion again until Gandalf quieted them. "Do you mean Pippin that you could still feel the thoughts of Denethor and the Dark Lord, even after your hands left the palantír?"

"Yes." Pippin nodded emphatically, "I was near and it was a big? No it a **_loud_** echo. I knew that Sauron making Lord Denethor think all is losted – **_lost_**. Make him not want do any fight. But I not go able tell him wrong any more – I not know how and not go want tell Dark Lord wrong thing."

"You did right Pippin." Gandalf patted his shoulder. "Go on."

"Then Lord Denethor looked at I – **_at me_** and was most sad and I felted he decided to do something most not good, but I not knowed what. But he picked me up and carried me forth. I could not stop he."

"Then he carried you to Rath Dínen," Gandalf supplied. "Legolas felt your anguish and it was he who sent me to find you."

"Yes he taked I to the place of bodies and set a bonfire with wood and oil." Pippin shuddered at the memory. "I was tried to call at Legolas when I seeded what he was to do, but it was then that I heared Mer called at I."

"Then you left your surroundings to join him?" Legolas remembered the anguish they both had felt at Merry's plight. "I expect like me, you only have a vague recollection of what was happening around you."

"Is true," Pippin agreed. "I not know what happen until… until…" He broke off, his head slumped down with sorrow as he remembered the outcome of the battle that followed.

"I don't quite understand," The Warden furrowed his brow. "Where did the perian go?"

"He became locked in a battle of the mind with the Witch King." Gandalf explained. "There is no time for a full description now. Suffice to say that he and his cousin, with Legolas and Éowyn, fought bravely and triumphed in the end, although what the final outcome may be we have yet to see."

The wizard patted Pippin's back. "That will suffice for now Pippin. Your story has filled many gaps for me and I think now I have a better picture of what occurred." He turned to the leaders assembled there, "I think it is clear, gentlemen, that the enemy moved among us and was able to pervert the leader of this City into a dire course of action. But all is not lost. I believe that, thanks to Peregrin, he learned nothing of the main thrust of our strategy and now it is up to us to ensure that continues."

****

Merry trudged on through the snow and the ice. He could feel the tears freezing on his face as he waded through the impossible never-ending drifts, longing for just a moment's respite, to be able to rest for a second, but he could not stop. He knew that if he did the avalanche would come and cover him again and he would have to claw his way out and this time there would be no help. No strong Boromir to lift him up out of the snow, no Gandalf to give him warming _miruvor _or start a fire, no Legolas to scout the way ahead and, worst of all, no Pippin to snuggle up to and raise his spirits with a quip or lively joke.

He had heard his voice before, Pippin's voice, calling to him to come back and dear Legolas too. But how could he? Merry knew he was dead and lost. Never again would he see his friends or the Shire. He had made his choice and he had chosen oblivion.

He did not regret it. It was the only thing he could have done, the only way to be sure the Witch King did not survive. Pippin had wanted to come with him, still wanted to come to him now. But Merry knew that he would be condemning his cousin to the same fate as he. They would be together, but together in turmoil, unable to touch and only able to witness and feel each other's pain and distress. No it was better that Pippin lived and returned to the Shire. To see his darling Pip suffer would only increase his own pain and turmoil. 

Knowing that he had made that choice heartened Merry for a moment. The thought that Pippin would live and eventually be happy lifted a little of the weight from his back. He pushed his body forward through the snow, every sinew aching. It was hard to tell where the most pain came from, the wound in his chest or the numbness of his frozen limbs, perhaps even the oppressive burden on his back. He grit his teeth and took another step forward and started to sing a little – half in his mind and half out loud: "…to the bottle I go… my heart … my woe… wind may blow… many miles to go…"

Suddenly Merry felt a blessed lightening from his back. It was as though someone had taken the terrible burden from his bowed over frame and was now helping him up, lifting him out of the drift to sit atop of the snow. A great arm came around him, pulling a cloak over his poor frozen body, rubbing a little at his hands and feet to warm them.

Merry began to quiver with cold. Something he had been unable to do before, he had been so chilled even his automatic responses had been nullified. Now there was a large protective arm around him and he could feel heat coming from the bigger body and leeching into his own. He began to cry, sobs wracking his frame, as a kind hand soothed his rapidly thawing curls and whispered kindly words in his ear. "There, there, Merry, don't cry, you're all right now – I've got you, I'll take care of you."

Merry choked back a sob, scarcely daring to believe who was holding him and warming him. He nestled in the protective arms and tried to wipe his tears away. "Is it really you?" he whispered.

"Yes little one. I could not stand by and see you suffer so. You can sleep now. I won't let anything hurt you. I promise."

Merry's eyes fluttered closed as his body became increasingly warmer. The howling gale had diminished and he slept, wrapped tightly inside the warm woollen cloak, safe in the arms of his friend Boromir.

****

TBC

A/N: Okay over the hump with Chapter 101. Thanks for the reviews – the food of my muse. It makes such a difference when you take the time to let me know what you think. Makes me write faster as well!

Q&A

Herald7: Finally! :)  
Llinos: Sorry to take so long – speak to Marigold!  
Marigold: Not my fault – I just get the blame!

Tamsin FlameArrow: *Gives Llinos a pack of virtual Skittles*  
Llinos: Now you've got Marigold whinging for Skittles – sheesh! She's mumbling now, I don't know why you get all the food items – all the sweets and cookies and everything.

Shirebound: You are OFF parole and back out on the streets   
Llinos: Phew! Ta muchly  
Marigold: Everyone go read Shirebound's story "Avalanche" – it's Brilliant!

august wynd: we are going to use ridiculous accents and use that speak of language   
Llinos: you go good at it now for saying think I!

ShireMaidens: must save my Mer from wraith  
Llinos: Indeed – but he has some help now!

Niphrandl: I will be waiting with baited breath for the next chapter.   
Llinos: Has this helped at all? No probably not – sorry!

Brenda: The line about the fire in the sky burning out and the smouldering hills, is absolutely beautiful. (very very poetic.)  
Llinos: Thanks – but I can't take credit – that bit was lifted straight from The Book – shows what excellent taste you have!

Anduin: One hundred chapters, one hundred reviews!!   
Marigold: Kinda right – except this version is 8 chapters 100 reviews – the original had about 1300 reviews until ff.net deleted them. However they are saved and are being reposted with the rewritten version of Recaptured: titled Recaptured II, which is now up to chapter 24. the last few chapters are substantially changed and worth another read.

catwhiskers: I'm looking at this it says 100 reviews! How appropriate!! Too bad I hafta break it, LOL.  
Llinos: Never apologise for adding a review! Plus – see Marigold's answer above.

Mistoffelees: CHAPTER 100! PARTAY!   
Llinos: Okay – virtual champagne all round!!

Baylor: And will I ever tire of having Legolas get Pippin ready for bed, dress him in an oversized shirt and rock him to sleep?   
Llinos: No more than Marigold or I will!

Baylor: It's good to see Gimli getting some action here  
Marigold: Everybody's is gonna see some action in this story – and I mean everybody!

Meatball: Maybe he should get some speech therapy.   
Llinos: Yeah I was wondering about that – you volunteering?   
Marigold: No! No! No! If anyone gets THAT job – it's me!  
Llinos: Shut up Marigold and get in the queue!

Lorelle Erelen: I cried. Again. I did on one of the way earlier chapters, when I had to read all 92 really fast before the whole site deleted them.  
Llinos: You might want to go back (with a large box of Kleenex) and read the rewritten chapters in Recaptured II. I have to admit – the new chapter 24 made both Marigold and me cry and we wuz writting it!

Periadoc: Congrats on getting up to chapter 100...who knew it would be this popular!! well  
Marigold: I DID! That's why I came here to Llinos's house, to poke at it and Llinos with my stickesses.

ssi3 Thomas: I have a question: Will you have the battle of the Slag-hills in this story?

Llinos: Be a toughie to leave out – don't you think?


	10. Boromir The Brave

Boromir The Brave

Recaptured Chapter 102

Author: Llinos

Beta and Additional Material: Marigold

"Should I put on armour me you think, Legolas?" Pippin looked at the chain mail with mixed feelings. It was very smart and important looking when it was altogether, but on the other hand the metal was uncomfortable and unwieldy for everyday use.

"Beregond found your old things Pippin," Gimli arrived for a brief visit. "Would you rather have these for now?" The dwarf had brought not only the breeches and shirt and coat that Pippin had been wearing, but had somehow also managed to procure his winged helm that went with his armour. The thought crossed Pippin's mind that next time he would hide it a lot better. "You can keep the armour for best."

"Thank you Gimli," Pippin smiled for a change. "I not go good in armours not think. Not for be in here now."

"What are you saying Pippin?" Gimli looked a trifle perplexed and banged the side of his head. "Is it my hearing? I seem to be having trouble understanding you."

"No, Gimli," Legolas put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder to stop his ear beating. "Pippin is having a little trouble adjusting." As the hobbit started to don the everyday clothes, Legolas added quietly, so as not to offend Pippin, "Hobbit mind speak is a language in it's own right and might sound a bit muddled to you. Pip got used to talking that way. Although his speech is back, his language is somewhere between normal and mind speak. I expect it will sort itself out in good time."

"But… but how do you understand him?" Gimli spluttered. Then stopped abruptly as Legolas surreptitiously put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh… don't be too noisy either," Legolas whispered. "His ears are still sore and his hearing sensitive." The elf gave an encouraging smile. "If you listen carefully you can work out what he means – and it's an improvement on before."

"How I go look at?" Pippin finished smartening himself up and turned around for approval.

"Er, fine young hobbit." Gimli lowered his voice as much as he could. "Quite presentable."

"Now go I get see at Merry, please." Pippin looked at Legolas who was enforcing Gandalf's decree that he had to wash and eat before he could be of any help to his cousin. The wizard knew what a difficult task lay ahead for both the hobbit and the elf and wanted them to feel their best.

"Of course." Legolas too was anxious to get back to Meriadoc as he knew how urgent his situation was. The healers had reported some slight movement of his hands and head, but no signs of awareness yet. "Come along Pip, we will see how Merry fares and what's to be done."

Gimli bade farewell to return to duty commanding the City guard while the other two went to Merry's quiet bedchamber. The healer, Dysgwr was beside the pale hobbit, patting his hand and his cheek alternately, trying to see if he could elicit a response of any kind. But Merry lay still, the only movements were those caused by the healer's ministrations.

"Is good I for get go up at bed?" Pippin asked Dysgwr politely as, without waiting for permission, he climbed up anyway, assisted by Legolas, "Did Merry get go move he did?"

"No, not recently," Dysgwr shook his head. "He moved his hands and head a little when we washed him and did not seem to like the water. But he has not moved since."

Pippin stroked Merry's head and brushed the curls, still damp from his wash, to one side. "Merry? Come please wake now. I talk at you. It me, it Pip you now hear at I loud please Mer." Pippin looked longingly at the still form and noticed how Merry's usually healthy looking face was becoming more translucent, bluish veins were now visible through the pale skin.

Legolas frowned at Dysgwr with a question. "Why did you wash him again? Was he feverish?"

"No," Dysgwr explained. "He was sick I think, my back was turned for a moment but there was green vomit on his face."

"Green you say?" Legolas and Pippin both turned to see Gandalf come through the door. "It is worse than I had feared." The wizard came over to the bed and put his hand behind Merry's head to lift him up a little and pulled his eyelid open. No pupil was visible and the iris appeared to be rolled up beyond view showing only the white. "I think it best that he is not conscious at the moment," Gandalf laid Merry back down. "I will try again to find the morgul blade fragment but I fear he is becoming more wraithlike."

Pippin looked at the wizard in horror, "Merry not go wake? Not be wraith! What happens Gandalf? What can we go do? Please!"

Gandalf, with Dysgwr's help started to unwrap the bandages from Merry's wound, "Pippin I'm not sure, but if I can't find the piece of blade in the wound you must bring Merry back to his body somehow so that he can fight." The healer sat Merry up and held him so that the wizard could remove the bandages. They laid him back down and Gandalf started to probe at the cut, pressing down with his fingers, trying to find the fragment of blade. "I know it is here," he muttered, "but I dare not cut back into this wound unless I know exactly where it is, that alone could kill him."

"But you said it is best he is not conscious Gandalf," Legolas was confused by the situation. "So why must we bring him back to his body?"

"Whatever inhabits this body now, it is not Merry. I fear that if he were to wake we would find naught but a wraith. That is why it is imperative to find Meriadoc's consciousness and persuade him to come back."

"But where he go?" Pippin whispered in awe, "Where go Merry be?"

"Pippin," Gandalf stooped down to the hobbit's eye level. "Merry is truly dead. He died when he fought the Witch King into the abyss. I do not know what brought him back to us but what now keeps this body of Merry alive is a different power. It is the evil of Mordor – the power of the Witch King himself lives on in the blow he struck."

"But how we go find Merry then?" Pippin's voice became urgent. "I not understanded anythings you sayed!"

"We have to persuade Merry's consciousness to return to his body so that he can fight against the possession of this creature and then die in peace." Gandalf spoke softly, his dreadful words seeping into Pippin's unwilling comprehension.

"No Gandalf! Can't he go be 'live again and we bring Merry's mind back inside he?"

"I don't know Pippin, perhaps if I can find the fragment of blade," Gandalf sighed, "but it is almost impossible to do without causing so much damage it will kill him." 

"But you could try?" Legolas offered. He knew Pippin needed some ray of hope if they were to succeed. "There is a small chance?"

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "But it is small. You must search for him again Pippin but this time, as well as Legolas, I will come with you. We three will go together and perhaps that way we shall have more success."

*****

"Merry, Merry?" The warm voice soothed his heart and mind and made him feel safe. But he also knew that it wanted him to respond. To answer and let his protector know he was all right.

"Boromir?" Merry's voice sounded tiny in his own head, overwhelmed with all that had happened. He felt weak and ill, as if he were just getting over a long and wearisome illness. "Why are you with me? Are we both dead now? Where are we Boromir – I think I'm scared."

"It's all right Merry," Boromir hugged him closely and kissed his brow. "There is no need to be afraid. I know it is strange for you to see me again, for you to see anything again. But it really is me. I was allowed to come and take care of you. I am dead, or so I am told, but I was not able to go to my ancestors, my soul was too restless and unsettled."

"Oh poor Boromir," Merry snuggled in even more closely to the large warm body and looked up into the handsome, sorrow filled face. "Why are you so sad? You deserve to be happy, you took such care of Pip and me and we missed you so much after… after…"

"I know you did Merry. I have been watching you both." Boromir's face lit up with that smile that Merry remembered so well, when he and Pippin used to tease the great man. He remembered the times they had wrestled him to the ground between them and how he had laughed good-naturedly and pretended to be in fear of his life. "You have managed very well on your own, both you and Pippin have travelled an arduous road and learned with each step you took."

"We cried a lot when you died, Boromir." Merry hiccupped a little at the memory, "even though the orcs had taken us, we were more sad at losing you. It was the most terrible thing and it was all our fault."

"No Merry," Boromir stroked the hobbit's pale face with the back of his fingers. "You were not to blame, it was I who failed you."

"But Boromir, we were…"

"No Merry," Boromir insisted. "That is why I have been unable to move on to the Overheaven, my soul could not rest for I knew I had let you down. I loved you both, you were my little ones and I let them carry you off, I could not save you. My heart was broken long before the arrow pierced it. They took you and Pippin and you suffered so much, it was my job to defend you and I could not. That is why I was allowed to stay, because I still had so much to do."

"What Boromir?" Merry whispered in awe, "what did you have to do?"

"Watch over you both," Boromir smiled again, "I could not intervene, but I was told that it would help to heal my soul to see how you and Pippin managed. That you would survive in spite of my failing, that you were stronger than you appeared and that eventually you would both grow to become great warriors. And so you have."

"Boromir!" Merry laughed now, he was sure his friend was teasing him so that he would feel better. "Pip and me aren't warriors – we're too small!"

"Oh Merry, believe me, bravery has nothing to do with physical stature." Boromir chuckled a little too. "Do you remember what I taught you about being a good soldier?"

"Errm," Merry ticked off on his fingers as he recited the little poem Boromir had taught him and Pippin.

"Eat when it's there, sleep when you dare,  
Keep your bags light and your belt tight,   
Your eyes always peeled and your lips firmly sealed,   
Try not to let, your feet ever get wet,  
When it comes to the test, give of your best,   
And if you have a friend, stay true to the end."

Merry paused for breath, "Did I get it all right Boromir?"

"Yes Merry, every single thing." Boromir said sincerely, "not only did you remember it all correctly, you did it all, you and Pippin, all of it especially the last part. That's what makes you good warriors – that and your tenacious bravery."

"But… but I didn't Boromir," Merry stuttered a little at the thought, "I l-left Pippin, I d-died and left h-him behind. You felt as if you had f-failed us, but it wasn't y-your fault, Boromir, but I chose to d-die. I had to or the W-Witch King might have won. But it means I abandoned P-Pippin, I didn't stay tr-true to the end, d-did I Boromir?"

"Yes you did Merry," Boromir brushed the hobbit's tears from his face. "You chose not to let the Witch King prevail and in order to do that you had to die with him. That was very brave and you did it to save Pippin and everyone."

****

_'PIPPIN? YOU CALL MERRY IS THAT WHAT YOU DO?'_

_'Gandalf? You're a little loud for Pip.'_

_'not i so bad at hear at Gandalf now. it not go scare at i now Legolas!'_

_THERE'S A GOOD LAD, MY BUT YOU HAVE GROWN UP! THE LAST TIME I SPOKE WITH YOU LIKE THIS YOU WERE SO…NEW?'_

_'i go get lot pracsis Gandalf, Merry and i go much talk at we heads and do fights too.'_

_'NOT WITH EACH OTHER?'_

_'not course we not fight othrer each! fight at wraith and things…'_

_'I KNOW PIPPIN I'M JUST TEASING – NOW CALL TO MERRY QUICKLY.'_

_'not teaser i Gandalf…'_

_'Pippin just call to Merry.'_

_'Merry! Merry! come back at i – please are you go be here now_..._ MERRY! i need you soon quick! please say things at i…'_

'Merry dear heart, are you sleeping? You have to wake and come back now. Pippin needs you and I miss you sorely too. Please come back to us. Merry!'

_Merry, Merry, Merry, please, please, please! you got go heared we… you go come back… it got you go be here now! Merry!'_

_MERIADOC BRANDYBUCK! DO YOU HEAR ME? COME HERE AT ONCE!'_

_'think you go scare at he Gandalf… not so much big shout… i go bit scare…'_

_'NO YOU'RE NOT! PIPPIN CALL HIM AGAIN – KEEP CALLING HE MUST HEAR YOU!'_

_'Merry! please come back at we! i go too sad at not you be here…MERRRRYY!'_

_****_

"Merry you do hear that? Don't you?" Boromir sat the hobbit down under a beech tree in a sunny glade. The storm had abated and, with Merry held safely in his strong arms, Boromir had climbed down the mountainside to a sheltered copse. "They are calling to you – I can hear them."

"I know, Boromir," Merry smiled sadly, "I think it is only echoes, they are not real any more. Only this is real now."

"I'm not sure." Boromir sat next to Merry and unfastened his pack. He drew out a fresh hunk of bread and large piece of yellow cheese, which he cut and shared between them. Then he filled two cups with ale and they made a picnic. "I've heard you and Pippin and Legolas talk before. They are calling you and I think it is real."

"Oh Boromir, I thought perhaps I could go back, but I know now it cannot be." Merry ate hungrily on the bread and cheese, "I cannot go back now – I am dead and that is forever, is it not? If I answer Pip he will be too sad and I do not want him to follow me – I don't want him to die too."

"Are you certain that your body was destroyed." Boromir quaffed his ale the way Merry remembered. He would tease the hobbits by lustily drinking his cup of water and pretend to them it was beer. "If your body still lives then you are not dead but merely wandering."

"But if I am not dead, how did I meet you Boromir?" Merry looked around him suddenly wondering if any of this was real. "Are we not on the way to Overheaven? Is this not just a resting place?"

"No Merry," Boromir drew two pipes filled with weed from his miraculous pack and handed one to Merry. It was already lit and the hobbit puffed on it contentedly. "I think this is a waiting place for those who are in between."

"Then what must I do?" Merry stopped puffing as he heard the voices once more. "Should I answer do you think?"

"Do what you must Merry." Boromir smiled at him as he saw a small spark of hope light in the hobbit's eyes.

_'…i go too sad at not you be here…MERRRRYY!'_

_'pip?'_

_'MERRY! IT GO BE I! come back at we now –you bad gone hobbt!_

_'oh Pip i not knowed if i can go come back…'_

_'MERIADOC – YOU HAVE TO RETURN – IT IS IMPERATIVE!'_

_'Gandalf? it go be you at come here?'_

_'YES – MERRY CAN YOU FIND YOUR WAY BACK? WE WILL TRY TO HELP YOU IF YOU ARE LOST.'_

_'Think hard Merry, remember how you found me in the abyss and brought me back. You have to return now. Your body still lives, but your incarnate being needs help.'_

_'LEGOLAS IS RIGHT, MERIADOC. YOU HAVE A LONG FIGHT AHEAD OF YOU, BUT YOU MUST NOT GIVE UP.'_

_'what is i got go fight at i? not go back be dead 'gain …think i must stay dead here…'_

_'THE WITCH KING HOLDS YOUR BODY IN THRALL, MERRY, HE WOUNDED YOU WITH A MORGUL BLADE AND NOW YOUR BODY MAY BECOME INHABITED BY A WRAITH.'_

_'Your mortal body still breathes, Merry – you are not yet dead. You must come and reclaim it.'_

_'come back Merry… give littlel trys.'_

_'aiieee!… is hurt at i ohh pip… makes hurt at i now…aiieee!'_

"What is it Merry?" Boromir caught the hobbit as he collapsed back into his arms. A red gash suddenly blossomed across his chest. "You are bleeding, little one. Do you remember what happened now?"

"It was the Morgul blade Boromir." Merry gasped in agony, the memory of his wound had been prompted by Legolas and Gandalf telling him how he had been hurt. "The Witch King cut me with his sword and that's why they… they" Merry was growing faint from the pain.

"I heard what Gandalf and Legolas said." Boromir told him urgently. "Answer them Merry! Tell them that you will fight!"

"Too hurt Boromir, help me, please." Merry whimpered with exhaustion and agony. "I can't do it, I want to fight, help me Boromir, it hurts so!"

Merry slipped into unconsciousness as Boromir cradled him in his arms. Never before had he succeeded in reaching the living, but never before had he felt such extreme need. He stood and drew a deep breath, sent a silent prayer and plea to the Valar and walked forward into a mist that was slowly forming about him with the little hobbit held securely against his broad chest. He called out into the fog, "Mithrandir! Mithrandir! I am come! Can you find me?"

From the opposite direction, seemingly walking across smooth white clouds came a white apparition. Boromir gasped as he recognised Gandalf – not the wizard he remembered from life, but a white bearded, taller, straighter man with white staff and robes, no longer grey. Legolas walked lightly beside him, his eyes brilliant blue and his long golden hair flowing behind him as if caught by a light breeze.

Then Boromir smiled as he caught sight of Pippin holding tightly to Gandalf's robes and peering nervously out from behind him. As soon as the hobbit spotted Boromir's burden though, all caution was lost and he rushed eagerly forward, only to put a large hobbit foot straight through the mist on which they stood and fall off the cloud. Legolas caught him by the collar as he fell and pulled him up again.

_'Pippin you have to concentrate hard to walk on what is not there.'_

_'sorry i Legolas – but it Boromir – got he Merry!'_

'Mithrandir! You have the grace of the Valar – it is good that you returned.' Boromir had last seen the wizard when he fell to the Balrog in Moria, although he knew from observing the hobbits that he was now Gandalf the White. 'I have been allowed also by Their grace to return the little one to you.'

'BOROMIR I HOPE THIS ACT WILL BRING YOU PEACE AT LAST – I KNOW HOW YOU HAVE WATCHED OVER THESE TWO SINCE YOU LEFT US.'

'Will Merry live? Do you know?' Boromir asked anxiously as he transferred the hobbit's limp form to the wizard's arms.

_'I CANNOT TELL, HE HAS A PIECE OF MORGUL BLADE SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE WOUND – IF I AM UNABLE TO LOCATE IT HE WILL BECOME A WRAITH. IF I PROBE TOO DEEPLY HE WILL DIE – IT IS A SORE CHOICE.'_

'I can see it!' Boromir looked with startled eyes up at the wizard. 'The fragment is just here.' The soldier reached out and touched Merry's wound at a point near to the waist.

_"ARE YOU CERTAIN?'_

'Yes I can see it clearly,' Boromir touched Merry's wound once more as if to make sure. 'It is half the length of my thumb and is a thumbnail deep – just here.'

'THEN BOROMIR I THINK HE WILL LIVE! COME WE MUST BRING HIM BACK TO HIS BODY AS SOON AS WE MAY!'

_'Boromir, you go come back too at we?'_

'No Pippin, I cannot, but take Merry and be sure and look after him well. You've done a good job so far.'

_'will Boromir – i take best care at my Mer.'_ Pippin, holding tightly to Legolas's hand stepped carefully forward to reach out a hand to Boromir who was beginning to fade. They touched fingers just as the image began to dissolve.

_'Fare you well brave Boromir.' _

_'bye Boromir, love at you, thank and thank at you for my Mer.'_

_'GO IN PEACE, SON OF GONDOR, YOU HAVE EARNED YOUR REST.'_

****

TBC

A/N

Now I'm black and blue because mean ol' Marigold makes me keep on writing after I want to stop and she beats me with her stickesses all day today. I stopped at 1500 words, I stopped at 2,000 words but still she wants more. Would anyone like a cruel unnatural beta-reader – going cheap? Well going 'write!' actually. Perhaps I could flog her on ebay!

****

Q&A

Shirebound: BOROMIR! He's as good as a magnic rope anyday!  
Llinos: Yes and the magnic rope's called 'Bob' (well that's what we call him).

Niphrandl: I still hope that Merry comes back though  
Llinos: Keep hoping!

ssi3 Thomas: If it would so please you as to write more, please do.   
Llinos: Your wish is my command – I wish Marigold were as polite as you.

ShireMaidens: Brave Boromir saved my Merry!!!  
Llinos: Gotta love that guy! Hobbit Hero First Class I name he!

Brenda: But, you better write 102 quickly. That last bit is going to keep me sleepless until the next chapter comes.  
Llinos: See this is the kinda blackmail that Marigold uses – Now Go to Bed!

Newttef: It's the Witch King in disguise isn't it, or some dark force sent by Sauron to tempt Merry into saying something about the ring while he's in this terribly cold world  
Llinos: Really! How could you think such Machiavellian things about me! I'm shocked and appalled :-). Seriously – no, it really is Boz! Do you write fan fic BTW – you really have a devious plotting mind? 

Floria Tosca: The hobbits have to be together again (preferably alive) within a few chapters.  
Llinos: Really? I'll try to keep that in mind.

Kookaburra: Love the story, love the descriptions, love everything!  
Llinos: Love you too, Kooks – don't worry MR is on the way!

Tamsin FlameArrow: Gives Marigold a pack of Skittles too, and chocolate sticksses to eat as she pokes Llinos  
Llinos: Well could you kindly confiscate the stickesses again – she's getting too good with it!

NarsilC: It's hard to wait for more!  
Llinos: Bet it's not as hard as writing more :-) VBG

Mistoffelees: "Everybody's is gonna see some action in this story"   
Llinos: Okay that's the last time I let Marigold write author's notes – and she's the bloody beta!

Pepper: Neatly waiting for the next chapter. :)  
Llinos: Glad to see you waiting tidily :-)

roadkill-writer: After Boromir died, everything seemed to go downhill for Merry and Pip  
Llinos: And after I started writing their story it got even worse!

zetawolf: bring Boromir back, too? Ah, c'mon. Pretty please with sugar on top?   
Llinos: Not even with dark chocolate on! On the other hand… no… err…

august wynd: i'm going again this weekend and am going to be...a drunk!  
Llinos: Hope you still enjoy the show.

august wynd 'bout time you wrote again!  
Llinos: I write constantly – thanks to constant prodding by Marigold – although not necessarily on this. I'm currently updating the other end of the story as well as a RPG in Lords of the Slashed and a story called Hobbit's Abroad with Marigold and Moria's Revenge with Kookaburra.

Baylor: Send Merry back to Pippin safely soon, won't you please?  
Llinos & Marigold: Send? Why no – let's get the man himself to take Merry back to the bosom of his friends.   
Everybody – don't forget to go and read Baylor's Care and Feeding of Hobbits!

Scifinut-Aniron: If we're good little readers and review faithfully, will we get a special bonus for Christmas?  
Llinos: Maybe – I'm making a list and I'll probably be checking it at least twice! Marigold has just suggested chocolate.


	11. Calon Lân

Calon Lân - (_A Pure Heart_)

Chapter 103 – Recaptured  
Author Llinos  
Beta Marigold

"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee!" The screech rebounded off the walls of the small room, echoing through the whole building and out into the City streets, terrifying all who heard it, not least, those closest to it.

"Gandalf! Gandalf! Help he! Please!" Pippin squealed in panic. He was trying to hold Merry's writhing body still, as the wizard frantically gave orders. Legolas quickly added his weight to the little hobbit's and together they managed to pin Merry firmly to the bed. His eyes were stretched wide open, but seemed to be as unseeing as ever, although now they were wild and staring and the iris and pupil were rimmed with a white corona.

"Quickly! Bind him." Gandalf snapped at Dysgwr who was gazing at the scene before him, open-mouthed and frozen to the spot.

Some time earlier, the healer had watched, with scepticism, as the wizard and the elf had stooped to each touch the halfling, Peregrin's, face as he sat on the bed of his patient, obviously engaged in some mystical healing ceremony, foreign to Gondor. All three had fallen into a trance and had stayed that way for some time.

Then Dysgwr had been stunned into disbelief as he clearly saw three ghostly apparitions leave the bodies of the living, although the hosts remained breathing and apparently still hypnotised. The healer had instinctively wanted to run from the room, to call for help and raise the alarm, but something in his will forbade it and he remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed upon the unmoving tableau before him. Eventually the three apparitions returned, materialising out of the ether, but this time Mithrandir bore the body of the other halfling, also in a ghostly form.

As the man watched in stunned silence the four spirits coalesced back into their proper bodies and then pandemonium broke loose.

The halfling patient began to screech, a noise that sounded like the black wraiths, only close to, it was even more terrifying. His body writhed and contorted and the other halfling and the elf desperately tried to hold him still. Now Mithrandir was shouting at him, Dysgwr, to do something – what was it?

Dysgwr shook his head to clear it and realised that he needed to tie the patient down, that he was out of control and would hurt himself or someone else if not restrained. Quickly the healer found a roll of bandage and, with the wizard's help, tied Meriadoc's wrists and ankles tightly to the bed. Once, the halfling actually managed to snap the binding on his wrist, so violent were his movements, making Dysgwr gasp at the strength of the tiny creature.

Once his wrists and ankles were secured, Mithrandir pushed a wad of cloth into Merry's mouth and tied a bandage round the gag to keep it in place. "Don't worry, Pippin," Gandalf could see the look of horror on the hobbit's face at this treatment. "If Merry's mind is in there, the screaming is probably frightening him too. Also this will stop him biting his tongue."

"Where we did go?" Pippin panted with the exertion of fighting with Merry. "Where Boromir goned? Legolas?" Returning to his body had not felt like waking from a dream, it was an experience unlike any Pippin had tried before. Added to which, seconds after he regained his corporeal senses, he had realised that Merry was now fighting like a demented wight and was in danger of hurting himself, if not everyone else in the room. 

Legolas too was somewhat disorientated and had been a few breaths behind Pippin in realising that Merry had to be held down. Together they had wrestled the fiercely struggling hobbit into submission, until he could be bound tightly to the bed. The elf looked at Pippin and gasped, as he saw with horror that the halfling was covered in blood. He reached out and at once saw that his own hands and then his tunic were similarly drenched. It was then that Pippin and he simultaneously realised that the blood had all originated from Merry.

"Oh! Oh Merry!" Pippin frantically tried to stem the blood from the wound on Merry's chest by pressing down with his hands where the flow seemed most prolific. "Not die Merry, Please not die!"

"Give me a fine blade!" Gandalf ordered the healer, Dysgwr. "I need to probe for the fragment. I know exactly where it is now." He took the proffered instrument. "Then be ready to suture the wound and bind it. He must not lose more blood." The wizard turned back to where the others were trying to restrain Merry, who was ferociously struggling against the bonds. "Pippin! Legolas… hold him as still as you can, I do not want him to move while the blade is in the wound."

Pippin lay on Merry's arm and wrapped himself around his cousin's head, holding his other arm down with both of his hands. Even though the hobbit was bound, he was still writhing desperately. Legolas clamped down on Merry's legs and lower body, stilling him as much as he could. Gandalf held his breath as he narrowed his eyes and eased the blade inside the wound in the spot Boromir had indicated. Almost immediately the wizard felt a resistance against the blade and knew that it was the shard of the Morgul weapon. Gradually he eased the offending piece of black metal from the wound until he could clasp it in a cloth.

Gandalf sighed as he held the glowing fragment. A Morgul blade will wither and char when it strikes a blow against a mortal enemy, but the fragment that succeeds in embedding itself in the wound it has made, will pulse with evil energy until it encompasses its host and turns the victim to a wraith. The wizard waved the healers forward so that they could help to still Merry's heaving body and sew up the wound.

"Gandalf, can't Merry go have a something now?" Pippin asked plaintively. He could see that Merry was in terrible agony. "Now sword bit goned out. I go gived he poppy?"

"Yes," Gandalf addressed Dysgwr, "Can you give him some opium or similar? Anything to ease the hurt and still him. I have removed the fragment, but I fear caused the little one even more pain."

Dysgwr nodded and made to go and fetch some opium, but Pippin was already proffering his own supply. The healer took it with a suspicious look at the perian, then shrugged and measured out a dose of the paste onto a small spoon. Pippin frowned at, what he considered, the paucity of the dosage and nodded that Merry needed more.

Dysgwr gave the perian a disparaging look and resealed the opium before returning it to Pippin. Then, after removing the gag, he grasped Merry's chin and forced the spoon into his mouth and held it there, while Pippin stroked his cousin's hair and whispered softly, "eat paste up Merr, make you bettrer, eat paste up, it all right you go have some."

Merry fought the spoon at first, retching against it, he was obviously in terrible pain from the suturing that was now being performed by another healer. But gradually as the opium seeped into his system his body began to calm more and more. Finally his staring eyes closed and his laboured breathing slowed a little.

The healer completed the suturing fairly quickly now there was less resistance, and Legolas gradually relinquished his hold on Merry's legs, although Pippin continued to stroke the fair curls, as much to calm himself as his cousin. Dysgwr untied the bandage bonds and lifted Merry up to a sitting position as the wound was tightly bound and moved him from side to side as the bloodstained bedding was changed for clean linen. Then the restraints were retied as a precaution, even though the hobbit was much calmer.

Gandalf meanwhile had placed the fragment on the ground, still enfolded in the piece of cloth, and with his staff had shot a spark of flame at the glowing metal that had melted it to nothing. As the shard evaporated, the wizard looked back at Merry and saw that he was much calmer, the opium and the removal of the piece of Morgul blade had obviously helped. He moved back to the bed and looked down at the hobbit, now bandaged and still. "Merry? Merry, can you hear me?"

Merry whimpered a little and pulled against the bonds on his wrists. Gandalf placed a hand on the hobbit's forehead, "Meriadoc?"

The touch was like a bolt of lightening. Merry's eyes shot open and he screeched again, pulling one hand free of its bindings. Pippin fell backwards with shock and Legolas caught him before he fell off the bed. Merry's eyes were wild and stared piercingly at Gandalf. "Foul wizard!" he screamed in a voice that sounded alien and shrill, "take your filthy hand off me!"

"Get thee hence from this body! It is not yours and you have no domain here." Gandalf pressed his hand down on Merry's freed wrist. "Your power is driven out! Leave and hinder this child no longer!" Then in a lower voice the wizard whispered, "Fight it Merry, come on lad, you can do it."

Merry screamed again in the shrill voice, "wizzaard! Foul stinking, corruption upon your bones." Then, as the staring eyes flickered shut, the voice changed to a quiet whimper, "G-gandalf? Help me… I'm frightened."

Pippin, recovered from his shock and near fall, scrambled back to cradle Merry's head. "It's all right, Merry. I here by you. You got do big fight. Not let it nothing win you Merry."

Gandalf retied the hobbit's wrist to the bed as gently as possible. "The Morgul blade is melted Merry, he has nothing to cling to but your fear. Do not let it be the master of you."

****

"Leave it alone, you fugpig!" Smagnu smashed his great elbow into the face of a slightly smaller Uruk, making him drop the small orc that it was dragging by one arm. "Get your piggin' rations same as the others an' don't come poaching my orcs."

The Uruk snarled and rubbed the black blood from its broken nose, but offered no fight. Smagnu was becoming as respected within the great army as he had been in Barad-dûr, partly because he was straightforward and did not mince words, but mostly because he was extremely big and strong, even for an Uruk.

His battalion had become popular with the smaller breeds because by serving him, they also incurred his protection, not something that happened with most Uruk commanders who generally ruled with a whip and a curse and little else beside.

"I din't come 'ere to pinch none of your scraggy battle fodder," the bloody nosed Uruk retorted. "I come to gives yer a message."

"Then give us the message and stop fugging about." Smagnu picked the small orc up off the ground where the messenger had dropped it and set it back up on its feet again. "Go on Sniggin," he told the small orc, "get over with Bloggin and help him with the grub."

"I come to tell yer that all captains gotta go up on the wall at sunrise." The Uruk frowned at Smagnu's kind tone to the rescued orc. He had, in fact been planning to drag it off to feed to his own battalion, which had run out of meat the day before. Generally the odd soldier could be sacrificed to feed the others – orcs would eat anything, although they preferred human flesh. However, it would be a day or two before they could feast upon the armies of the West and his troops were getting restless – and hungry.

"Well now you told me, yer can get back to your own dungpile and let my troops alone." Smagnu was well aware what the other's intentions had been and he snorted disparagingly as the other Uruk strode off muttering.

"So you going to be all right wi' that then?" Grutfley was at his elbow. "Going up on the wall?"

"Look a bit odd if'n I din't." Smagnu watched as the small orcs in his battalion lined up to get their rations. Sniggin and Bloggin had been put in charge of doling out and the others knew that any cheating or stealing would be dealt with by the big Captain or Corporal Grutfley. "They don't know who's who in any case."

Both Smagnu and Grutfley had assumed that when they had taken over this battalion, by the simple expedient of killing its former commander, no one in charge would actually notice or even care that much. As long as they kept order and made sure the smaller orcs did not run away or die or get killed until the battle, it seemed to matter little.

"Whaddya suppose they're going to tell yer up there?" Grutfley asked. "An' does this battalion have a name or a number or somethin'? You oughta know what it is."

"Hadn't thought 'bout that," Smagnu admitted. "How we going to find that out now?"

"We could ask the ones as was 'ere when we offed their leader." Grutfley suggested. 

"Give it a try then." Smagnu beckoned to Sniggin, who handed his ladle to Bloggin and hurried over. "Sniggin, I need you to find somethin' out for me." The little orc frowned with concentration. It made him feel extremely important to get an assignment from the Captain. "I know you was here when me and Corporal Grutfley first came, do you remember what this battalion is called?" 

"No sirs, they dursn't tells Bloggin 'r me owt like that."

"Well, can you ask around some of the others and find out?" 

"Yessir," Sniggin saluted. "I'll not rest a wink lessen I'se finds out."

"But Sniggin."

"Sir?"

"Do it casual like," Smagnu lowered his voice a little, "Don't want no one to know, we don't know – see?"

"Course, Sir, I understand Sir," Sniggin gave a knowing wink to the Uruk Captain and scurried back off to join Bloggin again.

"I wish there was some way we could get out of this bloody battle altogether." Smagnu grunted. "I've had a bellyful of fightin' and such for no fugging point – there's bugger all in it for us anyway. All we're gonna do is get ourselves hacked to pieces."

"Like we said afore," Grutfley agreed. "Wouldn't be so bad if'n we got summat out of it."

"An' it's like I lost all sense for it – after…" Smagnu trailed off. He was very confused about his feelings, it was only fairly recently that he even realised he had any feelings at all, and he had discovered they were very difficult things to deal with. 

"You means once we lost the little Pips?" Grutfley supplied.

"It was that an' when that screech came." Smagnu shook his head as if to clear it. "I had this bad, ugly thing in my head, like Little Pip was broken in two. I dunno what it was – but since then, I jest want ter go and find him and see what's up – you knows what I mean."

"Well all we can do fer now is get on with this 'ere." Grutfley nodded towards their hundred strong battalion, "you'se got other responsibilities now."

****

"What is happening to him?" Legolas asked quietly. The healers stood silently by also wondering what they were witnessing, but not sure if this was the right time to ask. "Something I don't understand, Gandalf." The elf was whispering now. "What has happened to our link?" Why do Pippin and I not feel Merry's pain? 

"I hope you may yet," the wizard warned. "The wraith that is trying to claim him has been diminished with the return of Merry's own consciousness and the removal of the Morgul blade fragment." Gandalf still looked more than a little worried. "But it can still win the battle if Merry is too weak to fight and he has been through much lately. He comes to this fight far more weakened than Frodo was at Weathertop." 

"Can we help him?" Legolas ran his fingers lightly over Merry's face, watching with concern as the hobbit flinched at the gentle touch. "There must be something we can do."

Gandalf put his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "If you, or you Pippin," the wizard tapped Pippin to gain his attention. "If you start to feel the pain of the wound, try to absorb as much of it as you can. It may help him to win the fight."

"Merry," Gandalf touched the hobbit's closed eyelids, "Try to open your eyes. You may be able to see now."

"See? I tried, but it takes my eyes," Merry's voice quavered, "It's still dark. I think I'm still blind."

"No Merry," Pippin patted his cheek, "I go can talk and hear again – you hear I - **_me_**? So you go see again – you got – **_you_** **_can_** do that."

"Come on Merry," Gandalf encouraged, "Pippin's right. Try to open your eyes and see."

Merry scrunched his face up with concentration. He gave several gasps and his head thrashed from side to side as he wrestled with the internal demon – the evil thing that was fighting for control of his very being. He forced his eyes to open, but even as they did, the hobbit screamed out in pain as a searing white light scorched into his restored vision. "It hurts! Oh too much light aaahhh!" His eyes screwed shut again and he tried to turn his face into the pillow to avert the glare that pursued him even through his eyelids.

"It's all right Merry," Gandalf breathed a sigh. "That's very good."

"How it good, Gandalf?" Pippin stroked Merry's trembling shoulders. "He make big cry – it not go good!"

"No Pippin, believe me." Gandalf took a wad of bandage and wrapped it around Merry's eyes, speaking softly as he did so. "Merry you are doing well. When Pippin first recovered his hearing, everything was too loud. That the light is too bright for you means that you, and not the wraith, are now looking through your eyes. Do not fear, you will become accustomed to the light eventually."

"Pippin, hold me, don't leave me." Merry gave a small sob. "I'm so tired and it hurts so much. I don't think I can do it."

"Yes you can, my Mer." Pippin gently eased himself around Merry, taking care not to jolt the wound on his chest. "We do togethrer, fight big… not give up. I hold you… no go any way – **_anywhere_**!"

****

"Mr Frodo? I think we'd better get moving again now." Sam reluctantly shook his master's arm, "Time for another start."

The hateful night had passed slowly and such daylight as followed was dim; for here as the Mountain drew near the air was ever mirky, while out from the Dark Tower there crept the veils of Shadow that Sauron wove about himself. Frodo was lying on his back not moving but at Sam's touch roused as if by a sudden bell. He rose quickly and stood up and looked away southwards; but then his eyes beheld the Mountain and the desert he quailed again. 

"I can't manage it Sam," he said. "It is such a weight to carry, such a weight."

"Then cast it away Master." Sam said almost lightly, "Throw it down here and let us be off."

"What do you mean, Sam?" Frodo's eyes narrowed and he looked at Sam as if he had gone insane. "How can I do that?"

"How can you do otherwise?" Sam sighed but looked steadfastly into his master's troubled face. "If you can't carry it you must cast it off, or give it to me."

A wild light came into Frodo's eyes. "Stand away! Don't touch me!" he cried. "It is mine, I say. Be off!" His hand strayed to his sword-hilt but then quickly his voice changed. "No, no Sam," he said sadly. "But you understand. It is my burden and no one else can bear it."

"I know," Sam said gently. "It's just that… I know you're upset at the moment Mr Frodo and maybe not thinking as clearly as you might. But I was put in mind of a story you once… oh never mind I'll not trouble you now."

"No Sam," Frodo took his companion's hand, "tell me. What story?"

"I was just trying to get you to see something, that's all." Sam started to collect up his bits and pieces, making ready for the next trek.

"What story Sam?" Frodo asked again. He drew Sam round to face him and then pulled him to sit back down on the cold ground. "Come, we can take another few moments, tell me."

"It was about just before you came to live with Mr Bilbo and you were still living in Brandy Hall." Sam counted on his fingers. "You were about twenty one and Mr Merry was just a lad of seven."

**+~~~~+**

"Meriadoc! Meriadoc Brandybuck, come here at once!" 

Merry scrunched himself further into the hay in the stable loft and ignored all entreaties and demands to make his whereabouts known.

"You'll get hungry eventually, my lad and then you'll know all about it!"

"Shan't so!" Merry muttered under his breath. "I'll run away, then you'll all be sorry."

"And where will you run, young Merry?" The voice behind him was quiet so as not to attract the attention of his annoying governess, but it startled Merry all the same. He rolled over in the hay and looked at the rafter above him to trace the owner.

"Frodo – don't tell her where I am." Merry breathed. He and Frodo remained silent until the angry governess had stomped out of the stables.

Frodo jumped lightly down without a sound and scrunched into the hay next to his little cousin. "What did you do this time?"

"Nothing!" Merry said indignantly. "Well, nothing much. It was an accident really. I-I tore a book."

"Oh Merry, that was bad. Do you know how long it takes to copy a book?" Frodo was sympathetic, but stern.

"But I didn't mean to do it Frodo," Merry said defiantly, "and now she'll tell Mamma and she will hate me and tell Papa he'll beat me and… and… everyone will hate me, forever… and I hate them… so I'm going to run away."

"All right," said Frodo, "Have you got your running away things?"

"Yes!" Merry brightened up at Frodo's question. "Here, look." He unwrapped a little bundle that he had brought with him made out of a pillowcase. "I've got my pyjamas, three apples, five pennies," Merry dug a little further into his luggage, "a compass, a bottle of ginger beer, a whole cake and my spinning top."

"Did you bring the whip for the top?" Frodo asked seriously.

"Yes of course I did," Merry held it up triumphantly, it was the last thing in his bundle. "You won't tell them I've run away, will you Frodo?"

"Well I think they might just notice after a while Merry." Frodo pointed out as he helped his cousin repack his possessions. "Would you like me to come with you? I feel like running away today, too."

"Oh Frodo!" Merry giggled. "You can share my things. Would you come?"

"Yes of course." Frodo agreed. "Where are we going?"

"I'm going to run away to the Lonely Mountain, you know where Uncle Bilbo went." Merry started to climb down from the hayloft. "We could find treasure and everything."

"All right," Frodo agreed and climbed down after Merry. "Which way is it?"

"Umm it's east," said Merry looking at his little compass and jiggling it until the arrow pointed the right way. "This way."

The two set off together, out of the stables and along the long path that led to the side gate of Brandy Hall. Once outside the confines of the estate they made for the Hedge. There was a place where Frodo knew a way through, an old badger run where you could crawl underneath. They made camp under the stars, between the roots of an old oak tree.

"Frodo?"

"Um?"

"Do you think they're looking for me yet?"

"Oh yes," Frodo confirmed. "I should think your mother is wild with anxiety and your father is combing the Shire searching for you."

"Really?"

"Doubtless."

Merry was not too sure how he felt about this. Running away had seemed like a good revenge on his parents. But revenge for what? They had not actually even scolded him, let alone punished him. They did not even know he had done anything wrong yet.

"Frodo, do you think I was bad to run away?" He asked tentatively.

"Oh no," Frodo said lightly. "I think you were absolutely right to run away before your parents had a chance to forgive you for being careless, don't you?"

"But why did you come with me then?" It suddenly began to dawn on Merry that perhaps he was not misjudged and put upon and that maybe he should have faced up to whatever his parents thought was just treatment for his behaviour.

"Well if I hadn't, would you have still run away?" Frodo sat up and looked at the youngster with that alarming twinkle he always had.

"Yes." Merry admitted shamefacedly.

"And don't you think you be a bit sad and lonely by now," Frodo put his arm round his shoulder. "To say nothing of lost and not too sure what to do and perhaps a little bit frightened in the Old Forest on your own."

"Yes." Merry suddenly felt the tears welling up inside. "Oh Frodo what shall I do? I've been really bad now and I want to go home. I don't want Mamma to worry and I don't want Papa to be angry. What shall I do?"

"What you have to." Frodo said in a kindly voice. "Come on Merry lad. I'll look after you, I promise. You just had to find out for yourself what was right."

Together, hand in hand, they made their way back to Brandy Hall. They were through the Hedge and half way back, when one of the grooms found them and sat the foot weary youngsters up on his pony to lead them back. Merry's mother was waiting at the door, a lantern in her hand and she hugged Merry until he was dizzy.

Frodo and Merry were both ordered to Saradoc's study the following morning and Merry apologised for tearing the book and promised to copy up the ripped pages again and sew them carefully back into the volume and Frodo said he would help.

Merry then apologised to his governess and his parents for running away and promised never to do such a thing again. His father said he would not be punished this time, as he had come back on his own and was obviously truly contrite.

Frodo apologised to the Master and Mistress for running away also. Merry was not sure, but thought, that as his father accepted his cousin's apology, he caught a knowing wink pass between the two.

Later, as they sat together in the Brandy Hall schoolroom and began to repair the precious book, Merry asked his older cousin. "Frodo, how do you know what is the right thing to do? It's seems very hard to work out sometimes."

"Not really, Merry." Frodo patted his little cousin's curls. "Sometime you don't. But when you've been through everything else and you can see they're all wrong – then the only thing left to do is the right thing."

**+~~~~+**

"…and that," said Sam, "is what it put me in mind of. I know the Ring is heavy now Mr Frodo, but you can't throw it away, you can't give it away and you can't keep it."

"I know Sam," Frodo gave a tiny half smile, the first Sam had seen in days, "and I can't run away either. So I just have to face it. Come on then."

So together, hand in hand, the two hobbits trudged on to meet their fate.

****

"Aaaahhhh! Pippin!" Legolas clutched at his chest as Gandalf reached out to steady the elf. "Do you f-feel it too?"

Pippin was curled into himself on the bed by Merry, rocking to and fro slightly. He lifted pain-filled eyes up to the wizard and the elf. "It good, it, yes Gandalf?" Pippin's breathing was quick, "We get pain of Merry, he go comed back?"

"Yes, Pippin." Gandalf put an arm round the hobbit to comfort him. "That is a good sign and it means you can help Merry, but can you manage? Is it too much?"

"Legolas taked more than I," Pippin looked up at the elf with a half smile. "I feeled he taked big share it."

Merry stirred and pulled at the restraints. His skin still had a frightening translucency and he babbled incoherently as if two people were trying to speak at once, neither able to make themselves understood. "G-go… nooogoo… c-c-cae yn druig… ssswr d-d-diawllll…yslymmm…"

"Merry, keep talking at me. Come on, I know you got hurted in you – in **_your_** chest I feeled it too." Pippin wished that he could see Merry's eyes, even when his cousin was blind, he would open or shut his eyes depending on whether or not he was asleep. "Don't go be sleep yet."

Legolas was monitoring Merry from the other side of the bed. He kept his hand on Merry's brow and held his right hand, worried about it's lack of warmth. "Listen to Pippin, my little one, we have to be sure that you are still with us." The elf shut his own eyes, as his breathing increased a little. He was trying to absorb as much of Merry's pain as he could, in order to give the perian as much strength to fight with as possible.

"I-I not… it'ssss issss… not…" Merry's whisper was sibilant and faint. "sss-sinked go un-under  d-ddownsss…"

"Merry! What is it?" Gandalf was watching fearfully. The hobbit was far from out of danger yet. His body was still taking on a wraithlike appearance and, even with the wound, the wizard would have hoped for more coherent speech.

"Gandalf," Pippin looked up at the wizard. "Why wraith go wants Merry? He not knowed yet, Merry not tell he anythings."

"As with Frodo, the Witch King tried to pierce Merry's heart with a Morgul blade." Gandalf explained. "If I had not removed the fragment, thanks to Boromir's directions, he would certainly become a wraith only weaker than the wraith lords and under the control of the Dark Lord, who would claim him and torment him for defying Him in the matter of the Ring and concealing it from Him.

"But you go get sword piece out now?" Pippin's eyes widened in horror at Gandalf's predictions, "so he go be good now?"

"He still must fight," Gandalf patted Merry's bound hand. "The fragment took a deep hold upon him. Even though Merry is free of the contamination and his heart is pure and honest, he may yet succumb to the darkness."

"I gone go in talk at Merry in he head – **_his_** head." Pippin asserted. "I tell wraith go out, help Merry fight it.

"No Pippin, you're not to do that – I forbid it." The wizard knew it was fraught with danger. "The Dark Lord is holding Merry with His thrall, trying to turn him into a wraith. He might try to take you over too, perhaps try to extract information from you, or at the very least cast your mind down and damage or destroy it."

"But we did good fight at Witch Wraith when we joined we." Pippin argued.

"But Merry is very tired now, Pippin," Gandalf warned, "he may not be much help in such a battle."

"The more reason is I go help he – **_him_**!" Pippin declared.

"And I will come too." Legolas assured the wizard. "Pippin and I will do it together."

Gandalf looked at the determined face of the hobbit and the elf. "I don't think either of you understand the dangers and possible outcome."

"Not everso," Pippin admitted. "But whatever they do be, I don't think I can not go do this now if it go helps Merry."

"We cannot just leave him." Legolas agreed. "Not now and especially with all he has endured."

"No Pippin; Legolas." Gandalf held up his hand as Pippin started to interrupt him. "Not this time. I know you love Merry and would fight to the death for him." Gandalf sighed. It was not his role to intervene in such matters always or to fight every battle that troubled those close to him, but he was not without discretion and he knew that Pippin and Legolas were tired too. "You both stay back, I have spent enough time in Meriadoc's mind now to know my way around. I shall go."

"But Gandalf," Legolas knew the danger of the attempt. "Should you risk yourself? You are so desperately needed at the forthcoming battle of the Black Gate? It is the battle that could make all the difference between victory and defeat."

"Who is to say where the most important battle will be? On the plains of Morannon..." Gandalf moved over to the bed and touched Merry's cheek lightly, "or in the consciousness of a small hobbit."

****

TBC

Author's Notes: Sorry to take a while to post this, but Christmas and RL got in the way. I took a break to write a little Christmas fic "A Partnership in Villainy" as well as a tribute for Tolkien's birthday. Both of these are on ff.net. Also did an update, with Kookaburra on Moria's Revenge. Marigold has gone up North, so it takes a bit longer to get beta'd and a million and one other excuses that elude me for the moment, but there you go. I'll try to be quicker next time, especially as half the next chapter is already written. 

In the meantime, I plan to do another chapter of Hobbit's Abroad – which should be quite exciting (well that's the plan) and will feature all the Fellowship.

Keep reading (and of course reviewing for which I am eternally grateful).  
Heddwch!  
Llinos

****

Q&A

Pandora: Wait, does threatening author mean no updates?!  
Llinos: No – carrying out threat means no updates.

Lorelle Erelen: And you rewrote the chapters? *  
Llinos: Not all, some were pretty much all right – although I have put changes in here and there. Major rewrites occurred from chapters 20 to 27, as I was not happy with the originals.

Dylan: I'm totally loving this story, though it seems to be coming to an end.  
Llinos: Not just yet – there's lots more to do and I have a sequel planned – called Stolen.

Dylan: this is totally publishable   
Llinos: Do you know a publisher? :-) Seriously I was thinking of putting it in zine form to sell at Media West.

Katakanadian: Merry is going back to his body.  
Llinos: But what does he find there?

Meatball: How sad that Boromir can't be in peace with his ancestors.  
Llinos: He may yet – we'll see!

ssi3 Thomas: I will give Marigold more stickesses  
Llinos: That is tantamount to author abuse.

Anne-Marie: Boromir scene was wonderful! I think you should write a fic about him and his watching over of them  
Llinos: In the meantime you could (if you haven't already) read Baylor's "The Care and Feeding of Hobbits" An excellent story from Boromir's POV.

Mistoffelees: All my love to the best unpublished story author in the world (and the best unpublished story beta).  
Llinos: Thank you Mistoffelees – you're too kind.

Scifinut-Aniron: But how does Boromir know where the blade is?  
Llinos: Because he is on a different astral level and is able to see things the living cannot. He probably had a bit of help from the Valar as well – after all, the guy needs a break!

Roadkill-writer: Is Boromir now a guardian angel for Merry and Pip?  
Llinos: Oh I think he always was – all through the Quest.

Newttef: I hope you keep posting Recaptured II as well, I miss reading the parts between chapters 38-85  
Llinos: I'm now up to chapter 70. I hope to have the remainder up by the end of this week.

Tamsin Flame Arrow: *Copies rhyme onto a scrap of paper* Noteworthy!  
Llinos: Ah so you liked the rhyme! I've been breaking into more poetry recently as I did a song by Merry and Pippin and a poem by Sam for JRR's hundred and elventieth birthday. It's on ff.net and called Happy Birthday Professor. I think I'm finally recovered enough from the trauma of two and half years of Hallmark to write poetry again. PS Thanks for the sweets.

Baylor: (Though why must Gandalf shout all the time?)  
Llinos: Good question. It's not really shouting – I just use this lazy device in mindspeak to show the relative strengths and accents of the different minds. Gandalf being an Istari is very big and powerful. He used to frighten the hobbits (who are little and all lower case, with no punctuation) when he conversed with them mentally, although they're both used to it now. Legolas is just normal writing with punctuation. But the Witch King was pretty powerful and the Dark Lord has the strongest mental voice of all – he gets capitals and bold! LIKE THIS! 

ShireMaidens: Boromir is so brave deserves to go and be at rest now...  
Llinos: Well – maybe later.

Brenda: the details and layers you keep adding to this story are truly amazing.  
Llinos: Thank the Valar for Marigold – who tries to remember them all and keep me on track.

august wynd: I hope poor old Merry can find his way back...and i would be very pleased if MR was updated again soon.  
Llinos: Done and done!

Niphrandl: YAY BOROMIR!!!! He brought Merry back to his friends!!! And now that Gandalf knows where that dratted piece of metal is he can remove it and Merry will LIVE!!!!!!!  
Llinos: Oh – no questions there really – but thanks for the review!

Herald7: Hmm this is getting exciting :)  
Llinos: Questions – I need questions!

Kookaburra: no more hot, Gondorian Arse to ogle anymore...*sob*  
Llinos: Yes – can we have some printable G-rated questions please! :-).

Shirebound: Hey, maybe it's Boromir, not Aragorn, who calls Frodosam back from the edge of death....? I mean, he's so good at it.  
Llinos: Now there's a thought… hmm…

helga: There are chapters 1--50, then 93-102. So what happened to all these characters in between?  
Llinos: It's up to 70 now on ff.net, hope to have the rest up by the end of this week.

Scifinut-Aniron: If we're good little readers and review faithfully, will we get a special bonus for Christmas?  
Llinos: Did you like "A Partnership in Villainy"? My Christmas pressie to all Recap readers and reviews and dedicated to Marigold. A Christmas story based on the bit in Barad-dûr when M&P remember the first time they tasted chocolate.


	12. In Dreams

Recaptured - Chapter 104 

In Dreams

Author: Llinos

Beta: Marigold__

_'not! not! leave at i! not hear you!'_

'MERIADOC, LISTEN TO ME. I'M NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU – I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU!' 

_'grrrr… not be at i here wisssarrd…'_

Gandalf tried to modulate his tone a little. 'MERRY YOU MUST LISTEN, I WANT YOU TO COME WITH ME – I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING.'

'try more hardrer i gandalf… where pip?

'HE IS BY YOU, BUT YOU MUST COME WITH ME NOW.'

_'can't not come i at you… wisssardsss… he pulls at i… not finded pip… big mastrer hold i and pull at i…''_

_'I KNOW MERIADOC, IT IS THE CALL OF THE WRAITHS AND THEIR MASTER, THE DARK LORD – YOU MUST FIGHT IT!'_

_'not know how do it… aaaiiieee! pull i… pull i…'_

_'REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE MERRY! REMEMBER EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE!'_

_'not know… it black… not see i… not see no things…'_

_'OPEN YOUR EYES – OPEN THEM! NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE!'_

_'no things… black… black road… verra long it… verra dark it…'_

_'GIVE ME YOUR HAND – WE MUST GO THIS WAY.'_

_'not see way… not see hand at you wisssarrd… got go this way i… not touch i… go back from i… ' _

_'COME MERRY, YOU REMEMBER ME. GIVE GANDALF YOUR HAND – AS YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG – DO YOU REMEMBER?'_

_'not membrer you wisssarddsss… get way i… hate you talk at i… go…'_

'MERIADOC BRANDYBUCK! HOLD OUT YOUR HAND!'

_'big scare i… mmmuuu…'_

_'THEN GIVE ME YOUR HAND.'_

In his painful, cold darkness Merry reached out and suddenly felt a warm, comforting hand wrap around his. _'g-gandalf? it go be you?'_

_'YES, IT GO BE I.'_ Gandalf gave an inward chuckle, partly at his hobbitspeak but mostly at the tiny success of getting Merry to hold his hand, even though it felt very cold. _'LOOK NOW WHAT DO YOU SEE?'_

_'black long road… not else things…'_

_'CAN YOU NOT SEE TWO ROADS AHEAD OF YOU?'_

_'not…see one… it black…'_

_'LOOK BEHIND YOU – WHAT DO YOU SEE?'_

_'none things…'_

_'THERE IS A LONG ROAD BEHIND YOU MERRY – IT IS THE WAY YOU CAME HERE.'_

_'not see he road came i…'_

_'LOOK WITH MY EYES MERRY – I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU.'_

_'aaaiiieee! it mist come at i… fall down i … not… it… see things far and far…'_

_~~~~~~_

"Well Master Gandalf, it's a long time since we saw you in Buckland." Saradoc Brandybuck was always hospitable to the wizard, although like many Shirefolk, he was somewhat apprehensive at his visits. But a wizard was a wizard and not to be denied.

"You didn't think I would miss the Welcomefest for the new heir to the Master of Buckland did you?" Gandalf handed his hat to the doorman but kept his staff, "Now where is the young chap?"

The wizard ducked down as he was ushered into the nursery. The room itself was large, which was as well, for there were already many visitors. Esmeralda Brandybuck was already up and about and holding court by the crib. The nurse was getting increasingly anxious about her new charge, trying to shoo hobbits that had seen the baby out of the door.

Gandalf peered into the crib and smiled. "May I?" He rested his staff against the mantle and raised his eyebrows to Saradoc who in turn looked at Esmeralda.

"Of course," she turned a sharp look to Saradoc's worried expression. "They say it's good luck for a new baby to be held by a wizard."

Gandalf reached down and scooped the tiny baby up in his large hands, marvelling again, as he always did, at the minute size of newborn hobbits. The body of this little one fit snugly in his cupped palms and fingers, its head rocked from side to side and its tiny legs kicked over the side of his hands so that the wizard tilted him up to rest the bootee clad feet on his arms.

"My but he's a little fighter," the wizard chuckled. He looked up at Saradoc and Esmeralda, "and a daunting combination if I may say so; half Brandybuck and half Took!"

"Now don't you go leading this one off on any of your crackpot adventures, Master Gandalf," Saradoc warned. "They say that Bilbo Baggins was never the same after he came back."

"Don't' fear, Saradoc, I'm sure he will be equal to whatever the future brings." Gandalf laughed and placed the baby carefully back in the crib. Then the wizard brought forth from his robe a beautiful tankard, fashioned in silver and mithril and handed it to Esmeralda. "My little gift for your son."

"Oh but that is beautiful." She gasped, "Thank you Master Gandalf. Is it dwarvish? It looks as if it is."

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded, "Nothing but the best for the young Master. "Oh but it is not complete. You did not tell me what you have named him."

"Meriadoc," announced Saradoc proudly. "Meriadoc Brandybuck."

An excellent name." Gandalf took the tankard from Esmeralda once more and, turning from the crib, muttered, "Now where's my staff?" The wizard took up the innocuous looking piece of wood and, placing the tankard on the floor, pointed the staff at it and muttered an elvish sounding incantation, followed by the baby's name. There was a small flash and a spark sizzled from the staff to the mug. Esmeralda and the nurse exchanged worried looks.

"There," said Gandalf retrieving the tankard and placing it in the mother's hands once more. "That's better!"

The tankard now had engraved upon it:

Meriadoc Brandybuck  
_may fortune guide your footsteps  
wherever they are driven  
and may your heart remain as pure  
as when this gift was given.  
  
_

"One boon I ask," said Gandalf as he reached down and touched the baby's finger, smiling as the little one grabbed hold of his smallest digit, "that you charge this tankard with ale on his 33rd birthday and bid him drink my health."

~~~~~

_'did… gandalf… i do go drink health at you…'_

_'THAT'S VERY GOOD MERIADOC. NOW CAN YOU SEE THE OTHER ROAD?'_ Gandalf's hand stayed tightly round the hobbit's and he felt a little warmth tingle in the small fingers at last.

_'not see – it mist is all…'_

_'MERRY YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE IN YOURSELF! THAT'S HOW YOU WILL RETURN.'_

_'but not go get pure heart i like sayed you gandalf…'_

_'YES YOU HAVE, MERRY.'_

_'no i make bad lies and de-de-seess… deseeses… tricks make tricks i…'_

_'WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN DECEITFUL MERRY!'_

_'do… make bad tricks and liesss i did…'_

_'FOR EXAMPLE?'_

_'well… err… time pip go not get writted he…'_

_'I BEG YOUR PARDON?'_

_'pip not do he pen good and i make he and you go do...'_

_'MERIADOC, MY LAD, EVERYONE LIES. WHAT MATTERS IS WHY YOU LIE. LOOK AGAIN AT WHAT YOU DID.'_

_'how i go look?'_

_'KEEP HOLD OF MY HAND AND WATCH.'_

~~~~~

"Pippin? Pippin, are you in there?"

"No, I'm not – go away Merry."

Merry smiled at what he thought was Pippin's teasing, but then realised there was a note of anxiety in his voice – almost panic. He opened the door and went into the bedroom without waiting for an invitation. Pippin was seated at his desk, perched on the high stool. His feet did not touch the floor and he leaned over his work with great concentration, sweat on his forehead and ink round his mouth.

"What's wrong Pip? What are you doing?"

"Go away Merry! I have to do this tonight!" Pippin was breathing hard and Merry could detect a slight catch in his voice. He walked over to the desk and peered over Pippin's shoulder.

The youngster immediately threw his arm protectively around his work and looked worriedly up at his older cousin. Merry could see that he had been crying. "What is it Pip?" Merry gently turned Pippin around and took the quill from his inky hand and set it on the stand. He drew out his big pocket-handkerchief and wiped the tears, fingers and then, placing his arm round his little cousin, covered his nose with the hankie and ordered, "blow!"

"That's better," Merry declared as he wiped the sniffy nose and gave Pip the handkerchief to keep. "Now tell me why you're in such a state. It can't be that bad?"

"Oh Merry, it's worse," Pippin had stopped crying, but he could feel his throat closing up again, partly at his panic and partly because Merry was being so kind to him. "Y-you know how I h-have to go t-to the sch-school now, s-since I had my b-birthday?"

Merry was well aware. Once Pippin had turned seven his father had decreed he should attend school in Tuckborough, rather than be tutored at home with his sisters and the other family children. The Thain had decided it would be an excellent experience for his son to mix with people outside the Took clan and the school had a good mixture of merchant's, wealthy farmer's and other well-to-do hobbit's sons. In addition the current schoolmaster, Mr Penawl, was very highly thought of, with excellent qualifications.

"I-I can't do it." Pippin sniffed, "the letters get all… all sort of jumbled up and then… then I get blots on the page and… and…" Pippin broke off, too distraught to explain further.

"Well we all have to learn Pippin, my love." Merry lifted his little cousin down from the high stool and pulled him over to sit on the bed, cuddling his head into his chest and rubbing his back. "You'll get the idea of using a pen eventually. I know you practice hard enough."

"But I won't!" Pippin sobbed, the tears renewing themselves, "I can't, because I'm stupid, selfish and lazy!"

"Pippin!" Merry pulled the crying youngster back to look him in the face, "You most certainly are not! Why would you say such a thing?"

"I am! I am!" Pip wailed, burying his head in Merry's chest once more. "I… huppp… sss…butttbb…"

"What Pip?" Merry pulled his face up again, "I can't hear you. What did you say?"

"Sir said I was." Pip gulped a breath, "Mr Penawl says I am lazy, selfish and very, very stupid."

"Well… well… you're not!" Merry could not imagine why this schoolmaster should say such things about his dear little cousin. "Would you like me to go and tell him so?"

"No Merry! You can't!" Pippin was panicking again. "All the other lads would laugh at me and he wouldn't take any notice anyway – because he's right and I am."

"Just because your writing isn't very good, does not mean you are stupid Pippin." Merry was getting angry now, not with Pippin, but with the schoolmaster that had upset him so. "Besides, as long as you do your best, what can he say?"

"Well last time," Pippin hiccupped and swallowed another sob, "he caned me in front of the whole school. He held up my work and everyone laughed at how bad it was and then he pulled down my breeches and… and… oh Merry, it was so terrible and I tried so hard to get it right and now I know it'll happen again."

"Poor little Pip," Merry cuddled him closely and stroked his trembling body. "Well it's not going to happen again – I'll see to it."

"How can you, Merry?" Pip pulled away from his cousin and stood shakily up. "I've got to try and do it again or I'll have no work to show."

"How many times have you tried, my Pip?" Merry caught his hand and drew him back.

"Don't know, I wasted a lot of paper," Pip looked at the screwed up balls of the precious material under his desk. "About ten times I think."

"Well that proves one thing," Merry said in a lighter tone as he led Pip back over to the desk. "You're certainly not lazy."

"Oh Merry do you think so?" Pippin looked puzzled.

"Of course. Now then." Merry sat himself down at the desk and drew a fresh piece of paper and dipped the quill in the ink. "What do you have to write? Do you know? We'll do it together."

"But he'll know it's not me."

"No he won't, I'll make my writing look like yours." Merry raised his eyebrows, "Promsis."

Pippin managed a half-smile at the baby word he had always used and Merry had adopted. "I had to write a poem about the best thing in the world. I've got it all in my head Merry and it's a quite long one."

"Well that proves something else then." Merry stood up and lifted Pippin to sit on the desk before perching on the stool again and resuming his writing stance. "You're not stupid either."

"Oh Merry," Pippin actually managed a giggle this time.

"So tell me the poem," Merry smiled as Pippin resumed his happy face in spite of his red eyes and tear and ink stained cheeks. "What is the best thing in the world?"

Pippin began to recite, slowly at first and then, as he saw how quickly Merry scratched the words onto the paper, marvelling at how much the writing resembled his own – only much neater, with a little more speed.

"The Best Thing in the World is:-  
  
A Friend by Peregrin Took  
  
A friend is who,  
Looks after you,  
And is always true,  
Whatever you do.  
  
A friend makes you glad,  
Whenever you're sad,  
Calls you good lad,  
When you feel bad.  
  
A friend is a smile,  
Not once in a while,  
But through every trial,  
Mile after mile.  
  
A friend's big and tall,  
Helps when you call,  
Picks you up if you fall,  
And…"

Pippin suddenly trailed off as he came to the last line, muttering incoherently at his feet.

"What's that Pip?" Merry looked up expectantly, "I couldn't hear the last bit."

Pippin said the line again, only once more, it was so quiet Merry couldn't hear it. He was obviously embarrassed about something.

"Come on Pip," Merry cajoled, "Don't be shy, the poem's very, very good. Did you write it all on your own?"

Pippin nodded.

"What's the last line then?" Merry shook Pippin's arm a little and then lifted up his chin so he could see his face properly. "Spit it out."

"And my best friend Merry, is the best friend of all!

"Oh Pip! That's… that's the nicest thing." Merry stood up so he could hug Pippin tightly. "And it proves something else."

"What's that Merry?"

"You're certainly not selfish."

Merry quickly finished off the poem with it's long last line, admiring the rather stylish way Pippin had completed the verse. "There," he said. "Your schoolmaster will never know the difference."

"But Merry," Pippin quailed again, once more filling with doubt. "Won't that be a bad lie?"

"No Pip," Merry patted his cousin's curls, "It will be a good lie."

~~~~~

_'THERE MERRY, DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID AFTERWARDS?'_

_'do… i lie at unc paladin… say i got go see frodo…' _

_'THAT'S RIGHT, AND REALLY YOU CAME TO SEE ME BECAUSE YOU KNEW FROM FRODO'S LETTER I WAS IN HOBBITON.'_

_'not know what you go say gandalf at school… what you did do?'_

_'I TOLD MR PENAWL THAT IF HE EVER SO MUCH AS LAID AN UNJUST FINGER OR UNFAIR HARSH WORD ON PEREGRIN TOOK AGAIN, I WOULD TURN HIM INTO A BLUE EARED TOAD AND GIVE HIM TO PIPPIN TO KEEP IN HIS POCKET.'_

_'it go workded… he not crueld at my pip more time!_

_'I'M NOT SURPRISED.'_

_'…gandalf?'_

_'YES MERIADOC?'_

_'i nevrer sayed thank you at you do that for pip…thank you gandalf…'_

Suddenly the wizard felt Merry's cold hand become a little warmer and the hobbit mentally reached up and put his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

_'THAT'S BETTER MERIADOC. ARE YOU NEARLY READY TO COME BACK YET?'_

_'think can try…'_

_'DO YOU SEE TWO PATHS YET?'_

_'is see littlel bit… but…oh … it still go hurt pull i…aiieee! gandalf hold i… not let it take i go way bad…'_

_'YOU HAVE TO SEE YOUR WAY MERRY. YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE YOU CAN DO IT.'_

_'not knowed it… do what gandalf?'_

_'MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE, WHICH, SADLY, IS OFTEN THE HARDEST CHOICE.'_

_'how i do that?'_

_'YOU'VE DONE IT MANY TIMES IN THE PAST.'_

_'have?'_

_'HAVE – LOOK WITH ME AGAIN, ONE MORE TIME.'_

_~~~~~_

"Pippin stay there or go home!"

"Please Merry, I want to climb up too."

"No, you'll fall and then I'll get into trouble."

"I can do it, please Merry."

"No! Now wait there till I come back."

Merry growled to himself a little as he started to climb up the willow that grew over the Brandywine. It was a very tempting tree, as it forked quite low down and gave a good start to any adventurous lad who wanted to see how far over the river he could reach. Five-year-old Pippin always wanted to go with Merry and his big cousin had not minded, but just lately, instead of doing what he was told and watching Merry do things, Pippin wanted to copy everything he did. Merry was beginning to find it a little tiresome.

Merry clambered along the outstretched branch, clinging tightly as he looked at the fast flowing current below, wondering if he dare let go long enough to snap a twig to drop in the water to watch how quickly it would get swept away.

Suddenly there was a great splash as something fell from beneath him into the water.

"Pippin!" Merry yelled and immediately jumped off the branch and into the river, just managing to grab a hand to the youngster's cloak as the current swirled them both out into the middle of the river.

Pippin splashed and fought frantically, his head submerging every so often as Merry tried desperately to reel him in, but all he could do was hang on to the cloak and thrash to keep them both afloat. Finally he managed to catch the hood of Pippin's cloak in his teeth and, clenching the material tightly in his jaws, tried to strike out for the shore, but still the current was too strong.

Merry was aware of three things as they buffeted along in the fast flowing river. The first was that there were rocks about half a mile ahead on which they would almost certainly be crushed to death. The second was that he could easily reach the shore if he let go of Pippin. The third was that he would rather die than let go.

Pippin had stopped struggling now but was, fortunately, on his back. Merry made another frantic effort to swim for the riverbank but knew he was not going to make it. He shut his eyes and asked the Valar to spare little Pippin, it was his fault he had fallen in and he would take whatever punishment they gave without question, but please don't let Pippin die!

Suddenly they stopped moving. Merry opened his eyes again and saw that they had collided with several branches caught up in the old jetty. He grabbed on with both hands to stop them from being swept on, then flipped over onto his back and manoeuvred his little cousin up onto his chest, still keeping hold with his teeth on Pippin's cloak.

Unable to climb out without letting go of Pippin, Merry struggled in the water for a while until mercifully he heard the sound of ponies' hoofbeats coming closer, hobbits from Brandy Hall, on their way to Buckleberry Ferry. Merry squawked through the material then tried to let go with one hand so that he could hold on to Pippin and shout out loud. But he could feel the pull of the water would be too fierce and they could get swept away again. Already Pippin was free of the branches and the only thing keeping him still was the hold of Merry's teeth clenched on his cloak.

"Hey look there! In the water, it's Master Merry!" Danlo the stable boy had spotted them. Soon Merry could see two hobbits on the bank pointing out to where he was.

"Master Merry, can you grab a rope if we throw it to you?"

"Mmmuummm!" Merry replied.

"Wass he a' saying?" Mab asked scratching his head. "Master Merry I'm gonna throw you a rope – you catch hold of it."

Merry realised that they obviously couldn't see Pippin, he was the other side of Merry and quite low in the water. He of course couldn't shout, for that would have meant opening his mouth and letting go of Pippin. The rope snaked out to Merry and landed across his arm.

Quickly he grabbed on with one hand, spinning it round his wrist until it caught tightly. At last he could release his other hand from the branches and grab a tighter hold on Pippin and let go with his aching teeth. Mab and Danlo quickly hauled the half drowned pair to the bank and out.

"What was you doing in the river Master Merry?" Mab asked with concern.

"I fell. How's Pippin?" Merry pushed past Danlo who was bending Pippin over to ease the water from his lungs. "Pip! Are you all right?"

Pippin blearily opened his eyes and gave Merry a sheepish look. "S-sorry M-M-Merry I didn't s-s-s-stay where you t-t-told me."

"Never mind, Pip." Merry breathed again, "I should have stayed with you, I'm the one who's sorry."

Merry turned shamefacedly to Mab, "I'm sorry Mr Mab, thank you for pulling Pip and me out of the river and you Danlo, thank you. You saved our lives."

"That's all right Master Merry, just so long as you're both all right." Mab was helping Pippin out of his wet things, planning to wrap the little one in his own cloak. "What I don't understand is why you didn't call back when we first saw you in the river."

"Oh," Merry remembered and then sighed and ruffled Pippin's soggy curls, "I had something very precious in my mouth."

"What was that?" Danlo asked trying to imagine what he could possibly mean.

"Pippin!" Merry smiled.

~~~~~

_'YOU SEE MERRY, YOU MADE THE HARD CHOICE.'_

_'it not hard choice, it onlely choice gandalf…'_

_'NOT EVERYONE WOULD AGREE. YOU BOTH COULD HAVE DROWNED.'_

_'not leave my pip drownded and i go live…'_

_'HOW MANY OTHER TIMES HAVE YOU INVITED DEATH RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS?'_

_'i not knowed that…'_

_'WHEN YOU LURED THE URUK-HAI FROM FRODO, WHEN YOU THREATENED TO JUMP OFF ORTHANC, WHEN YOU AND PIPPIN TRIED TO KILL YOURSELVES IN BARAD-DÛR. MERRY WHAT SEEMS LIKE SIMPLE CHOICES TO YOU WERE IN FACT VERY NOBLE, TRUE AND PURE.'_

_Merry was silent, but Gandalf gradually felt the little hand in his grow warmer and warmer._

_'MERRY?'_

_'yes, gandalf… i think i go see now…'_

_'TWO PATHS?'_

_'do…'_

_'COME THEN. YOU WILL KNOW WHICH ONE TO TAKE.'_

*****

TBC

Author's Notes: This chapter is dedicated to every dyslexic child who has ever suffered at the hands of bullying schoolteachers – myself included.

Thanks to all the reviewers, I do appreciate knowing you are out there.

Llinos

Q & A

Natta: I'm so happy Merry's alive, coz I couldn't read this story without him.  
Llinos: Me too. Oh and welcome Natta. It's nice to see such a prolific reviewer.

Scifinut-Aniron: But you won't be mean enough to hurt Merry forever  
Llinos: I think he's starting to recover. 

august wynd: where have you been?  
Llinos: Was I really that long away? Sorry! I wait for enough reviews and then I decide I'd better write more. If the reviews aren't there – then I think no one's reading – or missing it.

august wynd: or no more nice reviewer  
Llinos: (Aghast!) Surely not! 

Kookaburra: Hurry with the next chapter  
Llinos: Well you need MR done too VBG

Baylor:  I was waiting for his head to start spinning around a la The Exorcist for a while there.  
Llinos: Don't! That's exactly what I said to Marigold when I was writing it! It's why I stayed away from green vomit in this chapter!

Mistoffelees: What if, well, let's call them Nippin and Yrrem, they meet up with - let's call them Yelfturg and and Ungams...I realized that when I started reading the part with...Yelfturg and Ungams...~shifty eyes~  
Llinos: What?

ShireMaidens: cant you give him just the tiny-est bit of help!!!!  
Llinos: There's a bit for him.

Sue: I have been wondering if we would see Smagnu and Grutfley again.  
Llinos: and they'll be back!

Brenda: gandalf carrying merry's ghost of course.) very cool.  
Llinos: Well Gandalf is one cool dude!  
Brenda: But i really am beginning to wonder whether Pippin will become the Shire's pre-eminent drug lord.  
Llinos: Drug Thain surely?

Brenda: i can't get the image of a giant, fighting Uruk Hai singing "Feelings"  
Llinos: Oh stop it! You've got me doing it now too.  
Brenda: Frodo was even wise at the ripe young age of 21.  
Llinos: Oh he was born wise that one!  
Brenda: you can torture him as much as you like  
Llinos: Thank you!  
Brenda: Merry in bondage. gosh that usually brings such yummy images to mind. *smirk* (or am i not allowed to say that any more since the ban on NC-17)  
Llinos: No you're not. But thanks for the in-depth review.

shirebound: I needed that break to take a breath between anguished Merry-moments!  
Llinos: Me too.


	13. The Last Debate

The Last Debate

Recaptured – Chapter 105

Author: Llinos

Additional Material: J R R Tolkien

Gandalf blinked and looked around the room. He was still seated next to Merry, his hands lightly touching the halfling's temple.

As soon as Gandalf's eyes opened Pippin scrambled up from the end of the bed and tugged impatiently at the wizard's cloak. "Gandalf!" Pippin shouted. "What go happened? Is Merry go bettrer? What you go do?"

"Peregrin, I would be obliged if you would stop shouting," Gandalf put his hands to his ears and flinched, "You are not the only one with sensitive hearing. And I suggest if you take more time over what you are saying, you might sound more coherent."

"Yes, sorry," Pippin lowered the volume but not the urgency, "but what go happen at – **_to_** – you? Is Merry get bettrer - **_better_**?"

"He is certainly on the right road at last." Gandalf watched the rise and fall of Merry's chest. "I think he will sleep for a while, but do not worry. Although he is very tired and still quite ill, he has a good chance of recovery now."

Legolas looked down at Merry's white face, "at least he is losing that wraithlike appearance." 

"Can we go take these tie bandnage – **_bandage_** -off him yet?" Pippin asked anxiously, "and bandnages off his eyes?"

"Not yet," Gandalf stood and soothed Merry's curls, "leave them a little longer. I must go and attend to other matters for a while. But stay with him and take some rest yourselves. When I return, we shall see."

"I too shall leave for a short time." Legolas patted Pippin's hand. "Take care of Merry, while I go and find how the Lady Éowyn fares."

"Oh yes," Pippin suddenly felt very guilty that he was concentrated solely on Merry, "Éow – I mean Mil-lady Éownyn wish her get go bettrer – **_better_** from me and Merry too."

"Of course," Legolas laughed lightly at Pippin's natural inclusion of Merry in his wishes. At least he was thinking positively about his cousin's state of health.

****

Gandalf felt a little guilty at leaving Merry so abruptly, but there were important matters still to discuss with the Captains of the various armies assembled in Minas Tirith. Aragorn, Théoden and Éomer had called a council and Gandalf was to preside. Legolas would come, as soon as he had been to visit Éowyn, and Gimli also was present, together with Prince Imrahil and the sons of Elrond.

As soon as they all were assembled Gandalf stood and addressed them gravely, "My lords, listen to the words of Denethor before he died: _'You may triumph on the fields of the Pelennor for a day, but against the Power that has now arisen there is no victory_.' I do not bid you despair, as he did, but to ponder the truth in these words.

"We know from the halfling, Peregrin, that this was what he truly saw in the seeing stones and they do not lie, although what is shown and what is concealed may have been directed by Sauron. Victory cannot be achieved by arms, whether we go to meet him or wait here to endure siege after siege. You have only a choice of evils, and prudence would council siege, as that will surely delay the end as much as it can be delayed."

"Then you would have us retreat to Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth and there sit like children on sand-castles when the tide is flowing?" said Imrahil.

"No!" Gandalf turned to face the Prince, "I do not council prudence. I said victory could not be achieved by arms and I still hope for victory, but not by arms. For into the midst of all these policies comes the Ring of Power, the foundation of Barad-dûr and the hope of Sauron."

Gandalf looked around at the assembled captains, "If Sauron were to regain the Ring his victory will be swift and complete. If it is destroyed, then he will fall and his fall shall be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again."

No one spoke as the wizard continued. "Now Sauron knows all this and he knows that this precious thing which he lost has been found again, but he does not yet know for certain where it is, or so we hope. Therefore he is now in great doubt, for if we have found this thing, there are some among us with strength enough to wield it. That too he knows. For do I not guess rightly, Aragorn, that you have shown yourself to him in the Stone of Orthanc?"

"I did so ere I rode from the Hornburg," Aragorn answered, "I deemed that the time was ripe and that the Stone had come to me for just such a purpose."

"But how is this?" asked Éomer, "all is vain you say, if he has the Ring. Why should he think it not vain to assail us, if we have it?"

"He is not yet sure," said Gandalf, "and indeed it can be used by only one master and he does not yet know which of us that may be. But, from his actions, one thing he does know for certain. That the Ring, for the moment, is carried by a halfling."

Aragorn looked sharply up and caught the eye of both Legolas and Gimli at this statement. "But if he knows that why does he not strike?" Gimli asked.

"I did not say that he knows which halfling," Gandalf pointed out. "He may even be totally unaware of Frodo and Samwise, at least, let us hope so."

"Then does he believe that either Meriadoc or Peregrin carry the Ring?" Théoden voiced the thoughts of the others.

"Doubtless, he does," Gandalf said. "Although he has been close enough to both of them at times and yet failed to find it. Yet I'm sure that in some way he senses that they are significant to the Ring's whereabouts. He also knows that it is more likely to be carried by a halfling, who could not and would not wield it, than by one of the leaders, until such time as that leader wishes to emerge. It would, after all, be a sound strategy and one that I should employ if we did indeed still have the Ring."

"So what are you suggesting we should do?" Aragorn said quietly, "give him more evidence that his speculation is correct?"

"That is exactly what I propose." Gandalf continued, "his Eye is now straining towards us, blind almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it. Therein lies all our hope. We do not have the Ring, in wisdom or great folly it has been sent away to be destroyed, lest it destroy us. Without it we cannot by force defeat him but we must keep his Eye from his true peril. We can give the Ringbearer his only chance, frail though it be, by this diversion.

"We must push Sauron to his last throw. We must call out his hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must march out to meet him at once. We must make ourselves the bait, though his jaws should close on us. He will take that bait in hope and in greed, for he will believe that in such rashness he sees the pride of the new Ringlord and think he has him in a trap. We must walk open-eyed into that trap."

"But who will he believe the new Ringlord to be?" Imrahil asked. "You Mithrandir? The Lord Aragorn? Surely that will mark whoever is the supposed Ringlord for terrible danger."

"He may surmise it is either one of us, but we shall not be the sole focus of his attention." Gandalf sat in the chair at the head of the table and paused for a moment. "There is a surer way to gain his Eye. We will let him believe we bring the Ringbearer with us to deliver the Ring to the new Ringlord once the battle commences."

"You mean to use Pippin as a decoy!" Legolas jumped angrily from his chair, "How could you? Has he not been through enough?"

"Peace, my friend." Gandalf stood once more to meet the elf's angry onslaught. "I shall not force him, but he is too good a bait to not use." The wizard held up his hand before Legolas could protest again. "You must go with him Legolas, it will be a daunting feat for him, but much depends on Sauron being diverted away from the true Quest. Whatever Pippin has and must endure, I am sure Frodo and Samwise will stand a better chance of success."

Legolas fell silent. It was not for him to make Pippin's decisions, but he was sorely grieved at the thought of putting the hobbit in so much danger again.

"What force can we muster and lead out in one day's time?" Gandalf spoke to the captains now and each gave his reckoning of their numbers.

At length, when all were counted Aragorn spoke, "I judge that we could lead out seven thousands of horse and foot and yet leave the City well defended."

"Surely!" cried Imrahil, "this is the greatest jest in all of history. That we should ride with seven thousands to assail the mountains and the impenetrable gate of the Black Land. With a halfling of the Shire as bait."

"Not the bait, my Lord." Gandalf replied. "We, the seven thousand, are the bait. He is merely the decoy."

"But how do you propose that Sauron will know of this halfling?" Imrahil asked. "One so small will hardly draw the attention of the mighty Dark Lord. Why it will be a wonder if he be seen at all in such a throng."

"Sauron's Eye reaches far," Gandalf said calmly, "his Nazgûl, even without their Captain, still fly above and keep watchfulness on all we do." The wizard sighed a little, he was dreading having to do this. "But that is not all, Pippin shall ride to the battle between the Lord Aragorn and me."

"But surely," Théoden protested, "a halfling cannot ride a horse, and how will he be visible or keep up with you, mounted on a small pony?"

"He shall ride a horse," Gandalf stated, "if he agrees, although I do not think Pippin will swerve from duty. He shall ride alone upon my steed and I know that Shadowfax is skilled enough to not let him fall unless he should be struck down."

****

Théoden stood by Merry's bed and watched the halfling breathing raggedly. A healer sat beside him and spooned small drops of water into the hobbit's mouth, much of the liquid escaping from his lips to be mopped up by the cloth in the healer's other hand.

Pippin slept along the foot of the bed, there was plenty of room for both hobbits in the human sized bed, but to sleep alongside of Merry might have jostled him. Legolas had returned to the room and rested now on a couch against the far wall, but he had spoken no word to Pippin of Gandalf's proposal.

"Is it necessary for him still to be bound?" The King asked with concern. "He looks very peaceful now."

"Mithrandir bade us to keep him tied until he returned and deemed it safe to release him." Dysgwr explained. "I would not keep him so otherwise."

"Do you think he will wake soon?" Théoden enquired softly, "I think that before long I must leave to the great battle and I would have wished to say goodbye."

"I'm not sure the halfling would be fit to receive such courtesies," Dysgwr continued spooning and mopping the water, "he was sorely disturbed when last awake."

Pippin suddenly moaned a little in his sleep and clutched a hand to his chest. At the same time the elf's eyes sprang open and he sat up, breathing raggedly, also pressing on his chest as if in deep pain. He staggered over to the bed before the healer could help or stop him and reached out to touch the perian at Meriadoc's feet. "Pippin? Are you hurting badly?" he breathed.

Pippin sat up now, his eyes squeezed shut and in obvious pain. "Yes Legolas. It go hurt at you too?"

"It does." Legolas smiled into the now open eyes of the little one. "That's a good sign."

Merry stirred and pulled against the bonds, his head moving from side to side. "Merry?" Pippin scrambled up the bed, inserting himself between the healer and his patient. "I stay good by you all time Merry."

"Merry?" Legolas touched the hobbit's cheek. "Gandalf told us you trod a long road together to find yourself."

Gandalf entered the room again, first going to Merry and touching him lightly upon the hand and smiling when he found it warm. "Merry are you awake?"

"He moved a little," Dysgwr told the wizard, "but he has not uttered any sound, so I think not."

"We thought he go awake," Pippin rubbed at his chest, "when we start feeled he hurting."

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, "It is good for you to feel his pain, it means he has chosen the right path."

"But why not he go waked up?" Pippin persisted. "He get bettrer – I mean **_well_** – soon."

"You must be patient Pippin," Gandalf said gently. "He is much better than he was, but remember how long it took Frodo to recover from such an injury."

"Do!" Pippin's mouth dropped and his face fell in dreadful disappointment. "Oh my Merr. You stay go sleep make you bettrer." His language tended to get very confused the more stressed the hobbit was. "Bit more longrer we got go be waited now."

"Don't worry Pippin," Gandalf gave an encouraging smile. "Your hearing took quite a while to settle down and your speech is still somewhat wobbly."

"Gandalf! My talking is being – is **_getting –_** bettrer and bettrer all the time." Pippin stated indignantly.

"Yes Pippin, just as Merry will." Gandalf pointed out diplomatically. 

Gandalf patted Pippin's shoulder then spoke with the King. "Will you be joining the battle Théoden? The Mark waits upon your return, or will you bid Éomer lead in your stead?"

"This could well be the last battle for Middle Earth, Mithrandir." Théoden stood to face the wizard. "I am weary but I would not put such a burden upon my nephew at this time."

"Éomer is able to lead, I am certain of it and your men trust him." Gandalf assured him. "I urge you to give him command of the Mark now."

"Are you saying that I am too old and battle-worn to lead? " Théoden lifted his hand to stop the reply. "Perhaps you are right Gandalf, I am."

"But there is an important service to fulfil here," Gandalf said quietly, nodding towards Merry and Pippin. "I am loath to separate them again, but you know what must be done."

"Éomer shall lead and I will wait here at the Healing House with Éowyn and Meriadoc." Théoden stroked Merry's hair from his sweat-soaked face, "A poor substitute I make but…" The King trailed off, remembering that Pippin did not yet know of Gandalf's plans for him. "I shall go now and consult with Éomer. There is much to discuss. Rest well little one, I shall return in a while to find you even more recovered."

"Now Peregrin," Gandalf turned to the halfling who had been shooed back to the end of the bed by Dysgwr, "Aragorn and I need to speak to you."

"What I done?" Pippin looked up at the wizard worriedly, "I'm sorry, Gandalf."

"You haven't done anything," Gandalf frowned a little, "that I know of anyway. Why do you think you have?"

"You go call I Peregrin." Pippin remembered from former brushes with Gandalf that, the longer his name got, the worse trouble he was in – 'Master Peregrin Took!' usually being about as bad as it got.

"I'm sorry," Gandalf smiled, remembering his own tendency to snap at Pippin. He still regretted calling him 'a fool of a Took' in Moria. They had all been tense but it was not really Pippin's fault they were discovered and he was certainly no fool – aggravating at times – but not a fool. "Pippin, we need to talk to you, Aragorn is waiting for us."

"But Merry?" Pippin looked dismayed. "I not can't leave he."

"Master Dysgwr will take care of Merry," Gandalf offered his hand to help Pippin down from the bed. "Come along now. Legolas will come too."

Pippin reluctantly took the proffered hand and climbed down. He stood a little shakily as his feet were still sore from the burns and the original break, but shook his head at the offer of more help and walked resolutely at Gandalf's side. Legolas followed on behind them.

****

Smagnu left very careful instructions with Grutfley that he circle their battalion round and keep a careful eye out for interlopers, especially hungry looking interlopers. It was a long climb up to the top of the wall and, as he climbed, he realised that he was probably one of only fifty captains being summoned to this particular pre-battle strategy meeting. Obviously, the captain slave driver Grutfley had killed and whose place he had taken, was quite high ranking.

He hoped no one would challenge his right to be in command of his battalion and that the previous Uruk did not have any friends in high places. At least now, thanks to Sniggin, he knew the battalion number was 141 – laughingly known as _'one for one' _which under its last regime was appropriate as their captain only ever had his own interests in mind and so the rest followed suit. But Smagnu had changed that aspect of rule, as he looked out for all the small orcs under his command and made sure they looked out for each other.

Once they reached the summit of the perimeter the fifty captains formed into ranks before their Commander-in-Chief, who stood on a higher part of the wall where all could see and hear him. "The Master, Lord Sauron commands that we wait now in readiness for the assault that will come from the West. Armies will be massing to invade our land and, when the Black Gate is opened, we shall go out to meet and destroy them." Most of the Uruk captains raised their fists in the air and roared their approval at this; including Smagnu, some responses just come automatically.

"Your battalions must be ready at all times. This division will occupy the centre rank of the assault." The Commander pointed out into the battle plain beyond the wall. "On command your companies will surge through the gates in the ordered ranks that you will now be given. You will kill all in your path! You will not turn back! You will win victory for the glory of the Lord Sauron!" Again the Uruks gave their salute and roar.

Smagnu looked carefully around, even as he was cheering, ascertaining the lay of the land. Before him, on the other side of the Black Gate was an open plain set in between two pincer shaped hills of blasted stone and earth that had been piled up in years of labour. Before the plain lay, like a moat, a great mire of reeking mud and stinking pools, it was a grim view.

Further on along the wall and on the outcrops beneath, Smagnu could see similar groups to this one, also being given battle instructions. To one side of the great gate he could see a whole squadron of mountain trolls and in the far distance, at the rear of the army, were great battle machines, which would be harnessed to the massive beasts of burden that were alongside of them. It was an impressive sight.

"You – what is your battalion?" Smagnu broke from his surveillance, realising he was being addressed. "And what is your name? I don't recognise you."

"Smagnu, Sir, battalion one-four-one." The Uruk did not embellish and had decided for good or ill to give his right name.

"Right Captain Smagnu," The Uruk Commander looked him up and down, "I've bin hearin' reports of the one-four-one."

"Sir!"

"I heared as how you an' yer Corporal offed the rightful Captain and took his place."

"Sir!" Smagnu was thinking that perhaps he should be looking round for means of a hasty exit, but for now he looked the Commander straight in the eye and showed no hesitation and certainly no fear.

"I also bin hearin' as how yer don't use the whip an' bin treatin' youse orcs with a kid glove."

"Sir!" The intelligence network in this camp was obviously far better than Smagnu had realised. "Theys ain't gonna be up fer much if'n theys whipped an' half starved. Gotta get 'em to fight an' all." Smagnu replied quickly thinking on his feet.

"Smart lad!" The Commander slapped Smagnu on the back. "Wish more fuggin' Uruks in this stinkin' army had that much sense."

"Er, Right Sir!" Smagnu breathed out.

"Since yer seems to have a glimmer of brain," The Commander looked evilly round at the other captains. "Yer gets to lead yer battalion in a prime spot. Yer can be the special escort for them mountain trolls. When the gate opens, you gets your orcs all around them and take out anythin' small that tries to get 'em from underneath. All right?"

"Yessir!" Smagnu was not sure that this sounded like a prime spot, but now was probably not the time to complain.

"An' one thing more Captain." The Commander took a small insignia and pinned it to Smagnu's jerkin. "Yer gets a promotion fer that position. Two pips."

"Yessir!" Smagnu looked at the shiny metal pips and, although he did not know the word for it, he began to realise what irony was.

****

"Pippin," Gandalf was careful not to call him 'Peregrin' this time. "There is something that we need you to do."

Pippin felt very small seated on the large velvet padded chair. His feet did not touch the floor and he suddenly had an overwhelming desire for some hobbit sized furniture again. He quickly pushed the thought away as, under the circumstances, it seemed rather whimsical and frivolous.

He looked up wide-eyed at the tense faces of the big folk who were all focussed on him. Aragorn, Éomer, Gandalf and Legolas were seated around a large polished table and he sat at the far end on a chair that he had had to be lifted on to and still his elbows barely reached the tabletop. "What is?" He asked with trepidation. Pippin could think of very little he could offer in the way of service at the moment.

"We need to perpetrate a deception." Gandalf began.

"What's that?" Pippin interrupted immediately. "You mean tell big lie?"

"Um yes." Gandalf smiled at Pippin's straightforward interpretation. "Tell a very big lie – to the Dark Lord Sauron."

"I not think he listen at I, not now." Pippin said earnestly, "not now the wraith go dead."

"I'm not so sure about that." Gandalf said, "but it is not just in your mind speak. We need you to be a decoy for Frodo and Sam."

"Do?" Pippin was even more wide-eyed now. "How I do?"

"We want you to ride at the head of the army, between Aragorn and me." Gandalf could see that Pippin's jaw had dropped in astonishment and resisted the urge to tell him to stop catching flies. He really needed Pippin to act in a grown up fashion and admonishing him like a child would not help. "Sauron will be made to believe that you are the Ringbearer and that you are carrying the Ring to pass to Aragorn or me once the battle commences."

Pippin closed his mouth, drew a breath and then looked around the table. "How would I ride horse? Think I fall off, lessen you tied me on."

Gandalf was glad that Pippin had not just accepted or refused and was obviously thinking it through carefully. "You would ride on Shadowfax. You have travelled vast distances with him and he knows you well enough. He will not let you fall."

"I go ride Shadowfax on I own?" Pippin smiled at this. "That be go too much splendid I Gandalf." He quickly adjusted his expression as he could see the others watching him intently and this was not actually intended as a treat for him. "I think can do… go try… do I best – **_my_** **_best_**."

"I will come with you too, Pippin," Legolas smiled encouragingly, "I will do all I can to protect you from harm."

"Thank you, Legolas… but… " Pippin did not want to sound ungrateful. He looked down at his feet swinging to and fro. "What about Merry? Who go stay at he and I not there?"

"Legolas has to come Pippin." Gandalf explained. "I am not sure, but I believe we can still use the mind speak to attract the attention of Sauron and it will be easier if Legolas is with us."

"But Merry need…" Pippin broke off. He realised he was being selfish, Merry would not put himself before the Quest and Frodo and Sam needed his help too.

"Merry is in good hands." Gandalf said gently, "I know it is difficult for you to leave him at such a time, but I also know that you understand how important this is."

"My uncle, King Théoden has agreed to stay behind," Éomer said. "He will watch over both my sister and Meriadoc and should Merry wake, he will let him know where you have gone and why."

"Not make he worry me." Pippin exclaimed, but then thought for a moment. "No, he got know, it bettrer – **_best_** - he know I gone go in the war."

"Are you sure Pippin, you want to do this?" Aragorn asked him gently. "It is much to ask and not without danger."

"Ask much of Frodo and Sam." Pippin pointed out. "Ask same I… not different – **_no difference_**."

"The difference is Pippin," Gandalf stood up from the table and came to the hobbit, bending down to his level as he spoke. "Frodo and Sam are hiding from Sauron, we want you to show yourself to him as much as possible in order to keep his Eye turned away from them."

"Gandalf, it go be easirer – **_no easy_**..." Pippin clenched his teeth and fists in frustration, why would the words not come out right?

The wizard could see that he was making a supreme effort to talk properly. He obviously wanted to say something important and did not want it marred by his muddled, childish speech. "Say it slowly Pippin, take your time, we understand."

Pippin started again, "I could just go say I not a-fraid of Ssau-ron and you go think, I funny, fool of Took! But it not true. I very frighten." The little hobbit drew a deep breath, "But not only is for the Quest and the war – is for Frodo and Sam and Merry and the Shire and all my friends – is for every thing and every one I love. Course I do – **_will_** do it."

"Pippin," Gandalf said, his hand on the hobbit's shoulder, "I always knew you'd grow up to be a brave and fearless warrior one day. I just wasn't expecting it quite this soon or in quite this way, but it gladdens my heart nonetheless."

*****

TBC

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. I think this story is whittling down to just a few faithful followers now and I'm very glad you are still here.

This is the point where I start to say I'm going to finish soon as I think everyone is getting bored with it. Then Marigold hits me and says that I have to write more. But she's away at the moment – so I can say it and get away with being depressed and maudlin and refusing to write. 

Heddwch!

Llinos

Questions and Answers

Siah: I wondered where your charming story went to.  
Llinos: Aha and I wondered where you had gone – nice to see you back.

Kookaburra: Fortunately I have a math teacher that understands my difficulties  
Llinos: Well treasure him and bring him a apple a day – I suffered the reverse – hence the story.

Scifinut-Aniron: Speaking of, how much more is this going to be? I'm curious  
Llinos: Hmm – me too!

Mistoffelees: Wow! You're dyslexic?  
Llinos: Somewhat – maybe that's why I couldn't understand your backwards writing until Kookaburra told me! It's all a question of perspective. I'm also ambidextrous, which maybe is why I'm dyslexic – it is not a blessing – it is a curse – it means you can do everything with both hands – but very badly!

august wynd: and Gandalf told off that teacher-i used to think he hated pippin when i was younger but now i know better  
Llinos: Gandalf has never hated Pippin – he just finds him tiresome at times – like a parent with a hyperactive child. He redresses that attitude a little in this chapter I hope.

ShireMaidens: what about frodo and sam...  
Llinos: They're still on their way – we will take a look at them soon. Actually Marigold has gone off to Paris and their plot is in her handwriting and I can't read it – so I have to wait for her to get back! Whoops – have I said too much?

Anne-Marie: :) Still going good.  
Llinos: Like the Energizer plot bunny!

Tasha (mercurynat) Hugs from your own "Little Pip":   
Llinos: Hey everyone! Meet my Pip! Tasha is playing Pip in a RPG over on Lords of the Slashed and I'm playing an Uruk – yeah I know – type cast again. He's getting more like Smag every day. Oh and Kookaburra of Moria's Revenge is playing Sam. If you wanna take a look it's here: http://pub82.ezboard.com/flordsoftheslashedfrm38

Lora: good chapter! Update soon!  
Llinos: Thanks! I will – that is I have. But I will again! Keep watching!

Sue: I just love little Pip, I just can't wait to see his reaction when he gets his Merry back.  
Llinos: Ah you may have to wait a little longer for the proper reunion – if there is one!

Brenda: that poem was sooo wonderful,  
Llinos: Glad you liked the poem – I've been thinking of gathering up all the poetry I've written in the course of LotR scribblings and putting it on ff.net all in one place – good idea? Crud idea? Now I've been away from Hallmark for 6 months I'm just about in recovery and can look poetry in the eye again. Oh and re: your school experiences – as you probably gathered from above – this was written from bitter experience – only I didn't have a Merry or a Gandalf to help. :-) So it was very cathartic to write it for Pip with a good ending.

shirebound: What wondrous memories to re-awaken in Merry, to bring him back to himself and let him see how noble and selfless he is.  
Llinos: Isn't he though! Of course the fact that he doesn't know this is part of what makes him so.


	14. Battle Plans

Recaptured - Chapter 106

Battle Plans  
Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Merry!" Pippin whispered urgently. "You go waken now?" There was no response. Pippin waited a moment, listened to the regular breathing and, out of habit, put his hand on Merry's chest so that he could feel the steady rise and fall as well. "Merry?" At last his cousin moved a little, pulling slightly against the restraints still round his wrists, but his eyes stayed closed.

_'mer? you go be in there?'_

Pippin tried to find Merry's mind. He felt the gentle pulse of his cousin's being, but it was asleep. There was a great weariness on him; Pippin could feel it. He could tell that Merry was safe and well, but also that he needed to sleep his ills away and the slumber he was cushioned in was deep and sound.

_'mer? you not go wake yet – do you?'_ Pippin could not resist one last try.

"Peregrin!" The voice made him jump guiltily, "Were you trying to mindspeak to Merry?"

"Depends." Pippin turned slowly round on the bed and looked warily up at Gandalf.

"Depends on what exactly?" Gandalf asked a little more softly. He saw that he had made Pippin startle almost out of his skin and he did not want him to get upset. Not now, not with what lay ahead for him.

"If you gone go shouted at I." Pippin stumbled awkwardly over the words, caught in the act of what he had just been told not to do.

"Now Pippin!" Gandalf sank down on the edge of the bed. "I know it's hard for you, but Merry isn't going to wake up for a long while yet." He caught the look of panic on the hobbit's face. "I'm sure he'll be all right eventually. Now that his own spirit is back in his body, I was able to send him into a healing sleep, he may be unconscious for several days."

"I not get say good byes at he?" Pippin turned back to Merry and stroked his still face once more. Then looked back to Gandalf. "You could take off he the tied things though."

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, "I'm sure it's quite safe to do that." The wizard eased Merry's right hand toward the bond so as to more easily release him and then deftly untied the restraining bandage. He repeated the exercise with the left wrist and then gently tucked Merry's hands under the bedcovers. "But Pippin, remember what we talked about, that you must not try to mindspeak with Merry."

"Do know," Pippin looked mournful, "Just wanted to go see if he go good."

"You can come back just before it's time to leave." Gandalf stood up and gently steered Pippin by his shoulders towards the edge of the bed. "But for now you have to come and get ready."

Dysgwr came back to the room at that moment and eyed Pippin suspiciously. "You haven't given him any more poppy paste, have you?" The healer did not really approve of the fact that Pippin appeared to have his own personal supply. "You know the distillation of the poppy seed is quite dangerous?"

"Do know." Pippin said for the second time. It seemed that everyone today wanted to tell him what he should and should not do. "Not gived it to Merry, I not want go hurt he."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me," Dysgwr moved his head, indicating that Pippin was in his way.

The hobbit scrambled off the bed and, heaving his shoulders in a sigh, started to leave with Gandalf, but then ran back to his cousin, pushing past the slightly irritated healer who had started to feed Merry water again. "I got your flute Merry!" Pippin had just remembered that it had been given to him when they took Merry's ragged and bloody clothes off. "I got our mithril pennies too." Pippin pulled the hoard of treasure from his pocket and stashed it, with the flute, in the bed alongside his cousin. "You bested go keep these now, case I not go come back at you."

Dysgwr had been about to comment once more on Pippin's behaviour but, as his mouth opened to complain, he suddenly saw the sincerity and sorrow mingled in the halfling's eyes as he realised he may never return to see his beloved cousin again. "Don't worry, Master Peregrin," Dysgwr smiled down at him. "I'll put them safely by and be sure he gets them when he is well again."

-0*********************************************************************************************************0-

"Sam, remember what Gandalf said about the Ring? Frodo's voice was not much more than a croak and he took a careful drink from their ever-diminishing supply of water, just enough to fill a large thimble. "How it would attract all things evil to me?" He carefully swilled the precious liquid around his mouth before swallowing it.

Sam scratched his head a little and said nothing. The two hobbits had stopped during the middle of the day to take a rest and were crouched beneath a jutting rock, which offered some protection, but little comfort.

"Sam there's something else." Frodo rubbed his grubby hand across his weary brow, wishing that they could have spared some water with which to clean themselves. "It speaks to me – all the time. As we get nearer to Mount Doom, it's calling to me, trying to make me put it on or to turn back. I don't know if I can ignore it much longer."

"I know, Mr Frodo." Samwise crawled over to put his hand comfortingly on the trembling shoulder. "I didn't want to say before, but I hear it now as well. It calls to me too."

"What does it say?" Frodo looked up at Sam, automatically clutching the Ring in his hand as though his devoted servant were about to seize it from him.

"Terrible things," Sam admitted. "I'd rather not say. It's not what you need to hear right now, believe me Mr Frodo."

"Sam, I do need to know." Frodo relaxed his grip of the Ring and let his shoulders slump a little so that Sam could feel him calming once more. "We must not hide from each other now – not now that we are so close to the end."

"But they are not real, Mr Frodo." Sam sat down close to Frodo; as close as he dared knowing how changeable his master could be with the effects of his dreadful burden. "It's not what I am thinking, the words are false, I know that."

"But what do they tell you to do?" Frodo persisted. "Do they tell you to take the Ring and claim it for your own?"

"No Mr. Frodo," Sam actually laughed a little. "It knows I would not do that. It's a clever magic that It possesses. It whispers to me that you are not strong and that I should help you and end your suffering. Then it tells me that you are plotting to kill me and push me into the volcano; that I should seize the Ring to save you from yourself. Things of that nature." Sam added in a matter of fact tone, "Nothing I'd believe though, of course."

"Oh is that all?" Frodo smiled wanly at Sam. He had tried to inject a little irony into his comment but the jest was lacking in feeling. "Sam do you think all the voices are bad? Do you think they all come from the Ring?"

"Well the ones I hear do." Sam frowned a little, not too sure what Frodo was suggesting. "But they are growing more powerful, that's for certain. Do you hear something else then?"

"I'm not sure, Sam, but…" Frodo paused as if he were reaching for an elusive thought, something that flitted about his brain but would not stay still long enough for him to capture it. "… do you remember when I felt that great sorrow and I thought it had come from Pippin?"

"Aye I do, Mr Frodo," Sam shook his head sadly, "You thought that he had lost Mr Merry, that he was dead. But you can't know that's true, it might just be your thinking on them too much." Sam did not want Frodo to fret about such matters – not now, when they were so close and his master was already weighed down with care.

"It's just that…" Frodo paused again, reaching into his thoughts. "…there have been other feelings. You remember that Merry and Pippin had somehow worked out a way of talking to each other, in their heads?"

"Pretty odd that was too, I must say." Sam had not really fathomed at the time exactly what was going on with his master's cousins. "Mr Merry said it was something Mr Legolas had taught them, so I would think it was some kind of elven magic."

"Well sometimes, I think when Pip has been upset, I can hear him – in my head." Frodo looked at Sam intently. "Does that make any sense Sam, or do you think I'm going completely mad?"

"Is it just Pip?" Sam's jaw had dropped a little, but he covered up his look of surprise before Frodo had noticed. "Or do you hear Mr Merry as well?"

"No just Pip." Frodo said sadly. "I've never heard Merry's voice in my head, only Pippin. He calls to Merry as if he were desperately trying to make him listen, or to come back from somewhere. It's as though my feeling was right and he had lost him, but he is trying to call him back." Frodo paused for breath. This was the longest speech Sam had heard from him for several days now. "I do faintly hear another, I think it may be Legolas. He too calls to Merry and then tells Pip to come away. I don't know. It's probably my imagination. I'm sorry Sam, I just feel as though I'm losing my mind."

"Do you ever try to answer?" Sam asked simply. It seemed obvious to him, but perhaps it was a daft suggestion, otherwise Mr Frodo would have done it.

"Why no Sam." Frodo looked at him with a small smile. "Dear Sam, you always think of the most sensible things. It had not occurred to me to do that."

"Well, I'm not saying as it will work. But perhaps Mr Pippin needs to tell you something." Sam reasoned. "After all we know that he and Mr Merry were talking in their heads like the elves can, so it's not like it isn't possible. Maybe if you think hard and try to talk back next time, you'll find out if it really is Mr Pippin."

"I will Sam." Frodo patted his sensible little gardener on the arm. "I will."

-0*********************************************************************************************************0-

"What it is, these?" Pippin was getting ready for the journey to the Black Gate. Gandalf had insisted he wear his armour again and, much to Pippin's disappointment, even his helmet had been discovered and laid out for him. The source of his enquiry now though were the strange little knitted mittens that had no thumbs in them.

"Oh Pippin, you know what they are." Legolas knew when the hobbit was being deliberately obtuse. "You've seen the others put them on before."

"Is go on tops of foots." Pippin tried to poke all his toes through the round opening, but kept getting at least one caught up in the edge. "Is stocks? Yes?"

"Um yes," Gimli agreed, "Well they're called stockings or socks, actually."

"What I sayed..." Pippin carried on trying to wiggle his feet inside the awkward garment, "stocks!"

Legolas held up two different sized pieces of footwear. "Which do you think will fit him Gimli? The shoes or the boots?" 

"I'd try the boots," the dwarf picked up the partner of the one Legolas was holding, "the shoes seem a little flimsy."

"Not knowed why I gotted wear anythings on my foots anyway," Pippin stood up with one foot finally inserted into the front end of a sock, still leaving a trail of unfilled sock in front of his toes. He walked over to inspect the boots and promptly stepped on the dangling sock and fell over. He looked up at his two friends accusingly, "can't even walk with stocks on."

"Come now Pippin," Gimli bent down and pulled the sock on properly, then helped him up again. "Your feet have been badly hurt and the boots will give them some protection from more damage."

Pippin sat in a chair while Legolas and Gimli, between them wrestled the other sock onto the reluctant hobbit, followed by the boots. Pippin then slid down and stood in the boots, which reached up past his knees, and was totally unable to walk or even move. He eventually managed to lift one foot, but it stomped straight back down again with a thump. "How do you go walk in these much heavy things?" he asked with a bemused smile.

"Perhaps they are a little too long young hobbit?" Gimli suggested. "Maybe the shoes after all?"

Pippin was seated once more and the boots were replaced by the shoes, but they were too tight and pinched his tender feet and were quickly rejected too. "I not got wear these stocks either." Pippin pulled the clumsy things off and dropped them on the floor. "I gotted badnages on my foots, that go be enough," he declared.

By the time Gandalf and Aragorn arrived, Pippin was fully clad in his chain mail, black surcoat, winged helmet and no boots. The wizard provided a buckler and the smallest pair of gauntlets he could find. These had been made for a child and were actually a good fit. "The orc blade that you had would not be suitable to use with this armour and I have no sword for you Pippin, but I hope you will have no need of one."

"No Gandalf, he must have a weapon of some kind." Legolas frowned and then unfastened the sheath and long dagger from his own belt and knelt to fasten it around the hobbit's waist, "This is not a sword Pippin, but it should serve you as well."

"But Legolas!" Pippin began to protest. "It is your knife, I couldn't…"

The elf took both Pippin's hands in his and kissed them gently. "It is an elven blade and wrought with much skill and is very precious to me." Legolas smiled at his beloved hobbit. "But not so precious to me as you are Pippin, dear heart." Pippin nestled his head against Legolas's shoulder in thanks.

Gandalf smiled at the elf's generosity. "That is well done, Legolas. Now Pippin, is there anything else that you need? Are you ready to leave?"

"Um, thinking, I need…" Pippin looked hopefully up from Legolas to the wizard and sidelong at Aragorn, "…need some poppy more."

Aragorn had apparently been deep in conversation with Gimli, but this comment gained his full attention. "Pippin, I don't think that would be worthy accessory for a knight of Gondor to carry."

"You go carry it Strider." Pippin pointed out with faultless logic. "That where I meet it first times."

"I know, and I do regret giving it to you now." Aragorn suffered much guilt over Pippin's obvious addiction to the drug. "Had I known you would become so… umm… attached to opium I would not have fed it to you in the first place."

"Opi-num? Is that what it do be go called?" Pippin had never heard the real name before and had always referred to the narcotic as poppy. "That not sound as sweet as poppy. Poppy got nice red sounded name."

"Pippin, it is not sweet at all." Aragorn explained patiently for what seemed like the thousandth time. "A little, when it is needed, is most effective, but opium is a dangerous narcotic and it worries me that you use it like sugar in tea."

"Is good when I go hurting too." Pippin looked mournfully up at the ranger. "I do go need and need now – for my foots," he added quickly.

"You also need a clear head, Pippin," Gandalf pointed out. "It is not a hobbit picnic we are embarking on. This mission is very important," the wizard knelt down to the hobbit's eye level and took his hand. "And you are a very important part of it, Pippin, you want to do your best, don't you?"

"Yes, of course do." Pippin agreed, nodding his head, "not want be worry about hurted foots!"

Gandalf sighed and looked up at the other members of the Fellowship, who were all trying to conceal their amusement at Pippin's ability to out-manoeuvre both Gandalf and Aragorn with his own brand of logic. "All right," the wizard conceded, turning back to Pippin, "we'll find you some. Now are you ready, otherwise?"

Pippin pulled off the uncomfortable helm and nodded again, "I ready, but got say bye at Merry again, you promsis I Gandalf."

"Yes and you shall," Gandalf eased himself back to an upright position. "First I have to talk to you and Legolas about what you should do."

-0*********************************************************************************************************0-

"Guarding the fugging mountain trolls!" Grutfley growled in the back of his throat. "that's a stinking suicide mission if ever I heard one!"

"Well we all gotta be somewhere in the battle." Smagnu pointed out, "at least this way the enemy are going to keep away from us."

"Yeah! An' we're jus' as likely get stepped on by the things we's supposed to be guarding." Grutfley moaned. "Those lumbering great bullocks are so stupid they don't know which bloody side they's on anyhow!"

"We ain't so sure of that ourselves." Smagnu reminded his partner. "Praps, if'n we thinks about it real hard, we can see as how to turn this to our good."

Smagnu and Grutfley fell silent and sat, crouched over their small campfire, each locked in deep thought, a condition that was fairly untenable for orcs as a rule, although Grutfley had done his share of conniving and planning in the past, being somewhat smaller and therefore needing to be more devious to get what he wanted. 

The smaller orcs of their battalion milled about, eight of them forming a semi-circle around the two commanders, waiting for orders or any indication that they could be of use to their strangely beneficent leaders. 

At length Sniggin pushed through the circle with Bloggin close behind, a small animal skin bottle clutched in his paws. "We bin an got yer a bit o drink, sirs." Sniggin held out two tin cups, while Bloggin filled them from the skin, then handed them to the orcs. "Is there owt elses we's can be getting' yer sirs?"

Grutfley quaffed the strong liquor, "Arrrhhh – thass a good drop o stuff – where'd yer half-inch that from?"

"We stoled him from the General's stock, they's got a whole hogshead there." Sniggin looked very pleased with himself. "You want me 'n Bloggin ter get some more?"

"No, you twos done well." Smagnu held out his cup for a refill. "But don't go drawin' unwarranted attention to yerselfs." 

"Yer both looks so fustigated 'n all." Sniggin said quietly. "We's wanted to get yer summat."

"Well what we're really in need of right now is a plan with some cunning and craft that'll stop us all getting killt." Smagnu said without much hope of response. "We gotta march in front of those great mountain trolls and stop nothin' gettin' at 'em, but that don't look so good for our lot." The Uruk sighed in mental defeat.

"As I was sayin' to Smag," Grutfley added, taking another swig of whiskey, "We're just as like as not to get squashed or trod on ourselves as anythin' else."

"What 'bout we get behind 'em then?" Bloggin spoke shyly, looking carefully down at his feet. "So's they don't go tread on us, like?"

Grutfley furrowed his brow and looked to see the Uruk's reaction. His mental wheels ground a little more slowly than his partner's, but suddenly Smagnu could see the logic in the little orc's suggestion. "Bloggin – it is Bloggin, init?" The small orc nodded. "I think you may have something there."

-0*********************************************************************************************************0-

"So do you remember all of that?" Legolas and Pippin walked slowly back to Merry's room in the Houses of Healing. Pippin limped along, favouring his foot that was broken, although Legolas was unsure if it was genuine pain or a way of reinforcing his need for opium. The reflected want in his own belly told him the latter. 

"Yes," Pippin said decisively. "We must not talk at Merry or at Éow-nyn…"

"Éowyn." Legolas corrected gently.

"What I sayed," Pippin continued. "but we got talk at each other in our heads, not about the Ring but where we are and where we is going."

"And that you are on Shadowfax, the great white horse at the head of the army." Legolas reminded him. "Also that you are the halfling that was pursued by the Witch King, one of the twain that Saruman…"

_'legolas?' _The hobbit lurched into mindspeak, the world of everyday words suddenly seeming too much to cope with.__

_'Pippin?'_

_'that lot big talk for i make at you in head…'_

_'I know Pippin, dear heart, but we have to try. Why are you…"_

_'i start not go 'membrer how do we go talks at you in we head…'_

"Surely not Pippin." Legolas laughed out loud. "You sound as eloquent as ever."

"Legolas!" Pippin said sternly. "Don't tease me. I not elly-quent."

"No," Legolas agreed as he pushed open the door to Merry's room. 

The little chamber was already fairly crowded. Éowyn was there with Théoden and Gandalf, all hoping that the poorly hobbit would wake up before his cousin had to leave for the battle.

Merry, however, appeared to be still sleeping, but at least he was slumbering peacefully, his left arm thrown up over his head and his right, still cold to the touch, tucked into the covers. The bandages on his wound had just been changed and Dysgwr had even brushed his fair curls neatly.

Pippin was lifted up onto the bed by Legolas and the others drew a discreet distance away from the two hobbits. "Has he shown any signs of waking?" Legolas asked, "I think Pippin would be much happier if he could at least talk to Merry before we leave."

"No," Gandalf said quietly, "I did actually try to rouse him, but without too much effort. He really needs to wake naturally. I am sure though he will recover now."

"What do you think Pippin is most anxious about?" Éowyn asked her former travelling companion. "He should feel safe enough riding with you."

"He will not be on Arod with me," Legolas explained. "Gandalf has decided he will ride on Shadowfax alone."

"Oh! That alone must be daunting for one so small." Éowyn looked over at the perian who, in spite of the armour, still appeared very diminutive. She remembered the first time she had been sat up on a horse at the age of six. How far away the ground had seemed and Pippin was not much bigger than she had been then. "Does he have to do that?"

"I think in fact he is quite looking forward to riding the chief of the Mearas." Legolas smiled at the thought. "I suspect he is more worried about everyone looking at him – that and not being able to say a proper goodbye to Merry."

"Of course, I know how close they are." Éowyn frowned a little as she turned to Gandalf, "but you, Mithrandir, which steed will bear you to the battle?"

"I shall no doubt find a worthy animal from the ranks of the Rohirrim." Gandalf replied. "Sadly, many men are fallen and their horses returned, from these I shall pick a mount."

"Éomer tells me that Windfola, my own stallion, returned to the battalion." Éowyn curtsied courteously to the wizard. "I pray you to take him. Would that I were able to ride to the battle myself, but I am forbidden by all, including my uncle, brother and the worthy healers of this house. It would gladden my heart to know at least that I can perform some small service."

"Milady Éowyn," Gandalf bowed in return and then gently took her hand. "Your gallantry could barely be surpassed by any warrior in this conflict. Already you have earned your place in the ballads." Éowyn appeared about to protest, but Gandalf carried on quickly. "I accept your kind offer and would be proud to ride upon the steed of a valorous shield-maiden. Thank you." He kissed the back of her hand lightly.

"Merry." Pippin whispered the name, half hoping he would awaken so that he could at least see him one last time. Pippin did not even know if Merry had regained his sight properly yet. The other half of him wished that Merry would stay asleep. At least then Merry would suffer no sorrow at their parting and he would not have to explain why he had to do this thing. Why he had to leave his dearest cousin and friend, just when he had been through so much, and go off again into terrible danger. Pippin could almost imagine Merry's distraught face at the prospect. As it was, he lay quietly, breathing steadily, a half smile playing about his lips.

"What you dreaming about Merry?" Pippin stroked his hand down the side of Merry's face and wrapped his finger around one of the tidy curls, pulling it out of place and letting it spring back. "You go dream about me, Merr? Hope you do, because you making nice smile." He added conspiratorially, "I got go do war thing now with Gandalf and Legolas and Strider and Gimli," he leaned forward to whisper into the pointed little ear. "Gandalf letting I ride Shadowfax, all by myself."

Merry scrunched up his nose and licked his lips, but still showed no signs of waking. "Come along Pippin," Gandalf came over, holding out the winged helm. "You must say goodbye now, it's time to leave."

"Do I got to wear that, Gandalf?" Pippin found the metal helmet a terrible encumbrance and took it off at every opportunity. "I could carry it and put it on when someone's looking."

"Pippin, my dear hobbit," Gandalf laughed, "I assure you there will be people looking at you all the time. Of course you must wear the full uniform. Now say goodbye to Merry and come along."

Pippin kissed Merry's sleeping face one more time and started to climb down from the bed, but before he reached the ground Dysgwr arrived at the bedside. He helped Pippin down and then remembered something. "I found this old piece of rope around your cousin's waist when I removed his clothing. Do you think he wants it? Or should I throw it away?"

"Our rope!" Pippin had almost forgotten to check the whereabouts of the elven rope. "That is go be very special at Merry and me." He took hold of the grey silken strands and placed the rope in Merry's cold right hand. "There, you hold that Merr, keep you go safe while I not here."

"I don't think that is such a good idea," Dysgwr protested. "He might get that caught round his neck and damage himself."

"Oh no!" Pippin reassured the healer, "It's a special magnic rope, it will take care of my Merry same as you do – well, not same as, but it look after him good."

Dysgwr frowned sceptically at the earnest face before him, then glanced back at his small patient. The rope had somehow curled itself around Merry's hand and wrist. The healer leaned forward to unwind it but, as he touched the pale white skin, he almost jumped with surprise. Merry's icy hand and arm had begun to thaw and was now quite warm to the touch.

-0*********************************************************************************************************0-

TBC

A/N: Sorry once more for such a long interval. I will try to be more prolific and punctual with my updates. But I have excuses – honestly!

Marigold was away – oop North and I got busy writing other things (hangs head in partial shame), specifically Big Enough to be Thain. Well that story is now finished and, although I do have a couple of other projects, Hobbits Abroad and Moria's Revenge and Lords of the Slashed, plus some poetry, I will not leave this story on it's lonely ownsome for too long. 

It was used to being fed once a day and now it's taken to sulking, as it doesn't get nearly enough attention, so I had better take more care of it before I get reported to the R.S.P.C.S. (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Stories).

Oh and Marigold and I went on holiday to Edinburgh and also stopped to stay the night in a haunted castle (again)! We may even post some photos on the new Yahoo list we are starting.

But thanks for all the reviews and hope you like the latest chapter. Now onwards to:

  
Q&A

Jeodo: Unfortunately, I'm rather neglecting my studies in my Masters program because I'm enjoying it so much. This is my first response because I'm rather shy  
Llinos: Well, sad for you but good for me! Don't be shy about reviewing – ever – all contributions more than gratefully received.

katakanadian: Since Marigold is away I'll prod you for her - WHACK! WRITE MORE!  
Llinos: All right Kat, put the stick down, move away from the author and nobody gets hurt. Anyway she's back! Sitting right next to me and prodding – damn her sticksses and ability to point out I should be writing and not playing solitaire!

LT (luthien_tinuviel02@hotmail.com) : Awww... snips lots of very interesting remarks, urging speed and nail abuse review behind.  
Llinos: Um thank you. I think that was very helpful, I like to see the effect my story has on people, although I'm not sure this was a desired effect. Nevertheless very lively and inspiring, keep it up!

kukume: PLEASE keep writing, and tell ya what, I'll keep reviewing! :)  
Llinos: It's a deal!

Pickle-flavored Gumball : I look forward to see your other works  
Llinos: Currently appearing on ff.net by Llinos (blush) Big Enough to be Thain (Pippin in trouble). Partnership in Villainy (Merry and Pippin both in trouble – is there no end to my variety?) Hobbits Abroad (No one in trouble – but lots brewing). Moria's Revenge, co-authored with Kookaburra and beta'd by Marigold – who else! (Everyone in trouble up to their 'ocksters!) Broken World (sssshhhh this is slash – please don't tell my Mum!) on Lords of the Slashed – I'm playing an Uruk named Nagash and Kooks is playing Sam. Features Merry by Rufferto and Pippin by Mercurynat. (Not so much trouble – but an awful lot of sex).

Lorelle Erelen: Poor lil Pip. DONT KILL HIM!!! ;)  
Llinos: I'll really do my best – but there's no accounting for anyone else in the story!

QTPie-2488: He has really grown up so much throughout this story.  
Llinos: Hasn't he just though! If he could just get that talking right!

meatball: I think you should just kill everyone off at the end! Except for Pippin! HE's MINE!  
Llinos: Me? Kill? I never kill! Oh but if you try to steal Pippin I may have to revise that!

Roadkill-writer: if your story is to end, may it not end in tragedy. Sigh.  
Llinos: As Bilbo sang "The road goes ever on and on…" in other words, I have a sequel planned. Oh and I loved your analysis of hobbit love – so well put – Bravo!

Siah: I was THINKING was Pippin should paint a big red bulls eye on his mail and ride between ARAGORN and...hmmm..LEGOLAS.. at the HEAD of the army.  
Llinos: Oh that is pretty much the plan – minus the bulls eye – I'm planning instead a big sign to go around his neck saying "The Ring is here!"

Tasha: And I'm glad we're kept up to date on Smagnu and co.  
Llinos: I think he might actually be related to Nagash! (If anyone doesn't know Nagash, go and read Lords of the Slashed – link above :-) ).

august wynd: yay!  
Llinos: Go August!

Baylor: Pippin has a way of stripping something down to its simplest and purest form, and making it beautiful and true, doesn't he?  
Llinos: Yes – and you have a way of always spotting the sweetest hobbit moments.

Artemis-chan: You've had me on the edge of my seat and almost crying in despair,  
Llinos: Oh dear! Do be brave – there's lots more harrowing scenes coming up.

Scifinut-Aniron: I very much like the idea of putting all your LotR poetry on ff.net.   
Llinos: And when Marigold gets back she'll make me do it no doubt!

Scifinut-Aniron: Well, I hope Marigold gets back soon so we can see where Frodo and Sam are,  
Llinos: Ouch! she's back – okay now I know what happens to Frodo and Sam – but who gave Marigold that wretched stick?

FuziPenguin: I never reviewed before because I didn't feel that there was anything to be changed.  
Llinos: It's just nice to hear from you anyway – thanks.

Anne-Marie: all the characters coming together out of worry for the lil' hobbit. very nice  
Llinos: Well you gotta luv 'em!

Sue (Tsclare@aol.com) : Hopefully, Pip and Smagnu will be meeting up again soon.  
Llinos: Well they're headed the same way – but who knows? I promise it won't be plain sailing.

Brenda: I'm still holding my breath for Merry  
Llinos: I think you had best take a quick gasp – it may be some time and I wouldn't like to lose one of my favourite reviewers and writers.

ShireMaidens: Merry WILL get better.... he WILL!  
Llinos: All together now "Merry will get bettrer – I mean **_better_**!"

Mistoffelees: Pip's all grown up...he's so brave!  
Llinos: That's what starring in a long running fanfic will do for a little hobbit!

Natta: I agree totally with Marigold (you go, make her write)  
Marigold: I'm withholding chocolate and sharpening my sticksess – and I keep whispering "150 chapters, 150 chapters!"

oumpa-loumpa: I mean, Pippin being dyslexic and Merry not being confidant about himself.  
Llinos: Thing is Oumpa (may I call you Oumpa for short?) There's quite a lot of my own experiences in there too. Well, maybe not the shy bit – but dyslexic for sure – did you know Einstein was dyslexic? So Pip and I are in good company.

Jay of Lasgalen: : There are many, I'm sure, following this avidly  
Llinos: Ahh! But you have to tell me otherwise I go into paranoia overload and think I'm talking to myself!

Shirebound: Marigold is such a good prodder; her true calling, I think. Just think of all the wonder and creativity inside you, just waiting to be prodded forth!  
Llinos: Careful what you say, she's headed back in your direction soon! Prodding can be painful too! Ouch – stop that!

Kookaburra: you have to see where 'Stolen' ends up starting. AND you have to write for Hobbits Abroad  
Llinos: Oh my word! The next thing will be Moria's Revenge – Arrrgghh! I'm going to run away and climb Treebeard! Although it didn't do Merry much good! (Marigold just said I shouldn't have any more to drink! Huh what does she know?)

Tamsin FlameArrow: I give you lots lots candy if you write lots lots... please?  
Llinos: Okay!

Floria Tosca: Maybe Merry and Théoden will get to talk of herbs and stuff, which they didn't get to in the book because Theoden died, if you want to include this element.  
Llinos: Well now that's a fine idea, says Marigold and I agree. Thanks for the suggestion.


	15. Hey Ho To The Battle I Go

Recaptured - Chapter 107

Hey Ho To the Battle I Go!

Author: Llinos

Beta: Marigold

As Pippin had walked with Gandalf and Legolas to the sixth circle, outside the walls of the citadel, to the stables of Minas Tirith, the hobbit's eyes had grown wider and wider. There were crowds of people gathering in the streets, mostly refugees, seeking shelter inside the City walls, elderly men, women and children and a few of the City Guard who were to remain under the command of Malwyn, who in turn would report to King Théoden. They all stared at the _Ernil i Pheriannath_, as Pippin had become known, some whispering to each other, while others cheered.

Many people had heard of the halfling who had arrived at the City in such a dramatic fashion, pursued by a wraith, the Witch King, and rescued by Lord Faramir and then Mithrandir. They had heard the stories of his companion perian who had battled and defeated the chief Nazgûl, miraculously being brought back to life. The word on the streets was that halflings had some magical power, equal perhaps even to that of a wizard or the Dark Lord himself. They said at the Houses of Healing that he had even roused the elven prince, to whom the Lord Denethor had entrusted the City, from near death.

As they walked Pippin tried to stay between the wizard and the elf, sheltering from the curious and inquisitive eyes of the local citizens. Gandalf several times got the hobbit caught up in his cloak as Pippin shyly tried to hide in the flowing robes.

Pippin was glad to reach the sanctuary of the stables and gain a little respite from the prying eyes and pointing fingers. Gandalf led him through the corridor until they reached the unfenced stall where Shadowfax stood, waiting patiently, but with an air that he tolerated the lodgings provided out of necessity.

"May I give he a sugar now?" Pippin asked Gandalf anxiously. The hobbit had carefully garnered several sugar lumps, saved from his own ration, in order to have something to offer the great steed.

"Yes of course." Gandalf smiled at Pippin's thoughtfulness. "Even a stallion so great as Shadowfax appreciates a kind thought and a treat."

Pippin had to reach up on tiptoe to offer the morsels, but they were graciously accepted and Shadowfax whickered softly to Gandalf as the wizard patted the horse's proud nose.

"All right Pippin, I shall lift you up now." Gandalf bent to take hold of the halfling. "Shadowfax has agreed to bear you forth and he will not let you fall."

"Could I just go walk until we are get at where the army is being?" Pippin suddenly felt even more anxious, not simply about sitting up on the high horse, but more at the thought of so many people looking at him. It would be difficult to be inconspicuous in such a prominent position. "Everybodies are go be look at me, I think Gandalf."

"I know Pippin," Gandalf drew back his hands but remained stooped to the hobbit's eye level. "That is part of the plan you know."

"For Nazgûl and for Sauron Dark Lord," Pippin whispered back conspiratorially, "but not at all other peoples in the village."

"All right," Gandalf agreed, standing up and urging Shadowfax forwards. "You can walk a bit for now, if you can keep up." In spite of his harsh words, the wizard offered his hand to the hobbit. "Oh and don't let the people of Minas Tirith hear you call their great white city, a village!"

*****

Merry stirred in his sleep again and turned restlessly over onto his front, trapping his right arm beneath him. Éowyn gently tried to ease the hobbit around so that he was not putting too much pressure on the damaged limb or his wounded chest. She managed to roll him off his stomach and placed a pillow at his side to prevent him from rolling that way again. 

Suddenly the lady's hand was clasped tightly making her start with surprise. "Pippin!" Merry gasped coming abruptly awake. Éowyn could not see his eyes as they were still bound with the protective bandages, so she had had no indication that Merry was almost conscious. She wondered if she should send someone to run after Pippin and fetch him back, but it was at least ten minutes since he had left.

"Pip? Pippin!" Merry gasped again clutching Éowyn's small fingers with his good left hand. "Where are we?"

"It's all right Merry," Éowyn whispered softly, "don't worry, you just rest. Pippin is… is with Gandalf," she hesitated to say 'safe', as this seemed rather presumptuous. "Here is the healer come to look at you."

"Wh-what?" Merry tried to sit but was too weak and flopped back down on the bed. "What is Pip… what is he d-doing with Gandalf?"

"Never mind about that at the moment, young master perian." Dysgwr felt Merry's skin to see if he had any fever and felt some heat there. "Your cousin is about his affairs at the moment and you must be about yours, which is to get well."

"I don't remember very much," Merry felt someone lift him and put a cup to his lips and he sipped the water gratefully, letting go of Éowyn's fingers to try and hold the cup there longer.

"Not too much yet," Dysgwr took the water away. "Do you think you can sit up now?" When Merry nodded, he gently lifted him forward, while Éowyn slid the pillow behind him and soothed his hair from his brow. "How about your eyes?" Dysgwr glanced at Éowyn apprehensively. "Mithrandir said I could try again to unbind them. Do you feel any pain in your head?"

"N-no," Merry considered. "I don't think so. I-I'm not sure if…" he trailed off, unsure what it was he felt nervous about. The last time he had tried to see Pip had been there, but the light had been blinding and painful but now Pippin was gone and Merry had desperately wanted him to be there if and when he recovered his sight. "I need to talk to Pip, in my head first." The hobbit decided that if he could not be with Pip physically, at least he could be with him in his mind. 

"No Merry," The stern voice rang out across the bedchamber making not only the hobbit startle, but Éowyn and Dysgwr as well. "You must not do that!"

"My Lord I did not see you there." Dysgwr bowed and stepped a little away from Merry. "I beg you pardon."

"No I beg yours." Théoden nodded to the healer. "I did not mean to interrupt your ministrations and I'm sorry if I frightened you Merry." The King came over to the hobbit's bedside and sat on the chair, taking Merry's uninjured hand in his. "I have a message for you from Gandalf. He says you must not talk to Pippin in your head, not for the time being."

"But why My Lord." Merry turned his face automatically towards Théoden. He had become accustomed to positioning people without being able to see. "I really need to talk to Pip, please."

"He is undertaking an important mission for Gandalf." Théoden patted Merry's hand to reassure him. "Pippin agreed to do it as it will help Frodo and his companion. But it is important that you play your part too." Merry opened his mouth to speak but the King continued before he could utter a sound. "You must not speak to Pippin! You may hear him talking to Legolas and much of what he says might not make sense, but it is important you do not respond. Do you understand that Merry?"

"Y-yes, I suppose so." Merry agreed reluctantly. "But he will be all right, won't he? Gandalf wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, would he?"

"I don't know Merry." Théoden told him gently. "This is a time of war, there are no guarantees, you are a warrior now, you know that."

"Yes," Merry agreed sadly, "I know – it's just that…"

"You've been through so much, both of you." Théoden supplied, "and you had hoped to be with Pip for a while, that perhaps you had finished your part in this conflict. Well I think your part may have finished, Merry, but Pippin still has more to do."

*****

Pippin trotted along beside Legolas, the bandages on his feet now quite black with dirt, but affording some protection for the injured hobbit. The elf held Pippin's arm, supporting him a little on the side of his broken foot and shielding him from prying eyes as much as possible, whilst Gimli walked on the other side, carrying the hobbit's winged helmet and acting as a second barrier to hide behind.

Windfola and Arod had been taken by Ŭnomer and Drâmym to join the Rohirrim so the two horses might be properly armoured and supplied for battle and Gandalf had ridden ahead on Shadowfax, so that he could speak with Aragorn.

"You're not afraid are you, young Pippin?" Gimli asked him quietly, "I thought you were keen to ride upon the great horse."

"Ride on Shadowfax I gone go look forward at." Pippin agreed. "I not used so many peopling, **_peoples_**… 

"…people…" supplied Gimli.

"What I sayed… people looking at I when I go along." Pippin peeped nervously at the large crowd by the broken City Gates. "Hobbits don't not like get looked at so much. It not just me, not used to be looked at so much – no hobbits like it. That's why we hide usual when big people come at we."

"Hmm, bit like dwarf women I suppose." Gimli chortled. "They don't like to be looked at either."

"Why is they little, like hobbits?" Pippin asked, distracted for the moment. "Do they go be nervous too?"

"Not really," Gimli considered, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. "They're about the same height as dwarf men and in fact, they even look quite similar to dwarf men, including the beards."

"Do they?" Pip said in wonder his eyes growing wide. "How do you go know which is which if you all go be the sames?"

"Well we know all right." Gimli frowned as he deciphered Pip's muddled words. "But other folk can't always tell and so the dwarven women tend to not to travel abroad very much."

"But if they does, how can we knows which be which of they?" Pippin persisted.

"You can't as far as I know." Gimli asserted, "That's what makes them shy."

"You're not go be too shy are you Gimli?" Pippin looked at the dwarf carefully with a critical expression. "I too think you are some little bit – are you?"

"What are you saying you cheeky young scoundrel?" Gimli snorted.

"Oh my dear Gimli," Legolas held a hand up to his face to hide his smile. "I had never thought of that until Pip mentioned it."

"How dare you suggest…" Gimli spluttered in growing fury as he realised the implications of what the hobbit and the elf were saying.

His indignation was cut short by Pippin's sudden yelp and he scurried back behind Legolas and pulled the elf's cloak over his head. 

They had crossed the broken City gates and journeyed on towards the fields of the Pelennor and suddenly, as they rounded the City walls, there before them was the army – a host of more than 7,000 men, some mounted, some on foot, but their ranks stretching far away into the distance. "Legolas… I – I c-can't do!" Pippin's voice quavered in terror. "Not ride on Shadowfax and all these many people go look at I. Please I too scared now!"

Legolas dropped to one knee as Pippin attempted to hide himself in the elf's cloak. "Pippin, look at me!" Legolas demanded. The hobbit lifted his head up slowly, his bottom lip trembling in consternation. "Think of all the things you have done."

"I not do no things, I, Legolas," Pippin whispered fearfully. "What you mean?"

"You have been captured by orcs and survived. Tortured and handicapped by Saruman and imprisoned on Orthanc. Looked into the palantír, taken to Barad-dûr by the Witch-King. Escaped from not only the Dark Tower but from Mordor itself. You killed the giant spider. You saved Merry's life several times. You saved Faramir. You were nearly burnt alive by Denethor. You helped Merry to mentally defeat the Chief Nazgûl and now you tell me you can't ride on a big horse for a few days?"

"I knowed I do things, Legolas," Pippin agreed. "I not scared at do things tell Sauron I got Ring and not afraid ride on Shadowfax. I said I do all those and I not won't do."

"What then little one?" Legolas took his hand and looked at Pippin anxiously. "What is wrong?"

"It's too many big peoples looking at I."

"Do not worry Pippin." Legolas laughed a little at his apprehension. "You will have to get used to that. It is just a small part of being a hero."

*****

TBC

A/N – Dateline 03/03/03 – Marlow-on-Thames, Buckinghamshire

No long detailed Author's Notes today I'm afraid. I am posting this chapter because my cruel, slave-driving muse and beta, Marigold, said I had to. Why? Because today is the one year anniversary of the date on which I first posted Recaptured.

I have now been writing this story for exactly one year. And still it is not finished! Arrrggghh!

I would like to take the opportunity of saying what an amazing year it has been and that when I started this little story I had no idea that it would have such a profound effect on my life. 

It is through this story that I met many new friends and in particular Marigold, whose long and detailed reviews in the beginning led to her becoming my beta reader and then my muse. I would ring her up in L.A. from Buckinghamshire and have long chats about the story and what might happen next, to her eventually becoming my houseguest for the past six months.

Sadly tomorrow she flies back to L.A. But I know she will be back, even my grumpy husband insist she come back, and she has left enough of her things behind that I know she will return.

So many, many thanks to all the reviewers and readers who have managed to stay with this story over the last year. I hope you are still enjoying it – indeed if the reviews had stopped I would not have continued to write it. I value your feedback and input and much of what you have said over the year has influenced the way I write and what goes into the story, so once again thanks a million.

Heddwch

Llinos


	16. Getting There

Quick Recap of Recap.

As I've been so bad at updating of late I thought as a service to you, the loyal reader, I would do a brief "where we are" synopsis to save you having to re-read the last few chapters, (although that would not be a bad thing).

The story so far: Merry and Pippin, have experienced many exciting adventures during which Merry was blind and Pippin was without speech or hearing, but learned to communicate telepathically, were each captured by the Witch King and taken to Barad-dûr where Sauron condemned them to death after he could learn nothing from them about the Ring.

They were rescued by orcs, Smagnu and Grutfley, and, as they gradually won the orcs over, they helped them escape from Mordor, after meeting with Frodo and Sam and killing Shelob and saving Faramir, then meeting up with Legolas and Éowyn, who had been following Merry and Pippin in the scant hope of rescuing them..

Pippin went with Legolas and was pursued to Minas Tirith by the Witch King and nearly burnt on the pyre by Denethor. He regains his speech, although it is now very strange and wobbly, and hearing after mentally helping Merry and Éowyn in their battle with the Witch King. Merry was thought dead in the struggle, but survived.

Now Pippin is going off to the battle of the Black Gate as a decoy Ringbearer riding on Shadowfax. He has not said goodbye to Merry, who was sleeping at the time, and the two hobbits have been forbidden by Gandalf to mindspeak, as that may lead Sauron's Eye to Minas Tirith instead of the Black Gate.

In other news, Smagnu and Grutfley, conscripted into the Black army, are trying to work out how to keep themselves and their loyal battalion alive in the forthcoming battle and Frodo has been telling Sam how he thinks he sometimes hears Pippin's voice in his head.

Now on with the story:  
  
Recaptured – Chapter 108

Getting There

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold  
  
"Wake up Merry, come along, say something to me to show you're awake." King Théoden was sitting by the sick hobbit's bed keeping constant vigil, much to the dismay of Dysgwr. The healer was not used to having such exalted visitors in his patients' rooms. "Your Liege lord commands it." The King whispered into the hobbit's ear, knowing that if Merry could hear, that would produce a reaction.

"Pippin, Pip, where are you?" Merry murmured more asleep than awake. After the King had delivered Gandalf's message that he must not mindspeak with Pippin, Merry had dozed off again and, although he would not communicate in his sleep, there was a danger he might do so whilst half way betwixt waking and sleeping. 

"Uncle, you must take some rest." Éowyn set down the bowl of porridge she had brought for Merry in hope of finding him awake and using the pretext to persuade her aged guardian to relinquish his watch. "I will take care of Meriadoc."

"I fear that he will try to communicate with Peregrin as he awakens." Théoden had promised Gandalf that he would not allow that to happen. The wizard had explained that if Pippin were to communicate with anyone other than Legolas during their journey to the Black Gate, then Sauron would be drawn away from them and perhaps cast about in other places, searching for the Ring and its bearer. The Dark Lord knew now that the bearer was a halfling, however, Gandalf was certain that He did not know which one. "Sauron has to believe that Pippin carries the Ring and no other." Théoden finished.

"Perhaps if we unbind Merry's eyes it will be easier to see if he sleeps or wakes." Éowyn suggested. 

"He was blinded by the light the last time we attempted that," Dysgwr explained. "We must wait at least until he is awake and the room is darkened."

"I am awake," Merry struggled to sit up again, until the pain in his chest drove him back down into the pillows. "I don't think I called Pip in my mind, I just thought he was still here."

"Very well," Dysgwr eased Merry to a sitting position whilst Éowyn placed pillows behind him. "Shall we try again to remove the bandages?"

"Hmm, I- I think…" Merry realised he was desperately searching him mind for a reason not to test his sight. "I think I'm a little nervous about…" he trailed off, trying to identify what he was nervous about.

"You're worried that your vision might not have returned?" Théoden gently prompted, "and while your eyes are covered there is always the possibility you will be able to see. But Merry, you have to be brave now I think and find out for certain."

Merry nodded his head, grateful that the King had vocalised exactly what he was afraid of, "Yes I know, may I try again now?"

"Of course." Dysgwr drew the heavy curtains to shut out the light and lit a single candle. He carefully unwrapped the bandage that held the two pads in place over the halfling's eyes.

Merry reached up and pulled the pads away and rubbed at his still shut eyes tentatively. He squinted them together, one hand pressed tightly over each eye. Slowly he dared to let his right hand, as it was aching from his injury, drop down and flickered his right eyelid open.

He let go of a tight gasp and exhaled as he realised he had been holding in his breath with tension. Dimly before him the hobbit could see a beautiful elven maiden, with long, golden hair and ethereal features. "A Elbereth!" Merry blurted in surprise, then, as the fair elf came forward smiling sweetly at him, he dropped his left hand and opened that eye too. "Forgive me Milady!" Merry breathed in awe at the faerie maid before him, "I thought I was dreaming to see so fair an elf at my bedside."

The golden haired elf, gave a small tinkling laugh and reached forward with both hands to smooth the fair curls off the hobbit's brow and cup his face, before placing a tender kiss on each of his eyelids. "Why Merry surely, you know me without your eyes, may you not recognise me with them?" She laughed once more with happiness that her comrade in arms was now able at last to see. "Merry – it's me!"

"Éowyn…" Merry's eyes grew wide with wonder. "I – I never imagined… that is… Éowyn – you are so beautiful that I thought you were Elbereth Herself!"

************************************************************************************************************

"Up you go," Gandalf lifted Pippin up onto Shadowfax and the hobbit grasped anxiously onto the great steed's flowing mane. "There's no need to cling on so tightly Pippin." Gandalf frowned at the hobbit, "He will not let you fall and you'll annoy him by pulling at him so."

"Sorry Gandalf. Sorry Shadowfax." Pippin let go of the handfuls of hair and placed his hands carefully on either side of the horse's warm muscular neck. "I go be bit scared of long way is down."

"It's just the same as when you rode him with me," Gandalf smiled, remembering how nervous he could make the hobbit at times. "Except I'm not there, so you've got more room to wriggle about."

"and more rooms to get off too quickerly!" Pippin muttered more to himself than the wizard.

"You're quite safe Pippin," Legolas reassured him. "The Lord of the Mearas would not let you fall."

"I do be good, Legolas," Pippin tentatively reached up to push the uncomfortable helmet further back on his head. It tended to slip down over his eyes from time to time and was most unwieldy. "I just want see where we goeding – goering – **_going_**!"

Legolas smiled and leapt upon Arod, joining Gimli who was already astride and nodded to Gandalf who was now seated on Windfola. Shadowfax stepped proudly forward, making Pippin anxiously clutch to his mane once more, and, at a nod from Gandalf, the great horse, with his small burden, took his place between Aragorn and Gandalf at the head of the great army.

At last the trumpets rang and the lead battalion began to move. Troop by troop and company by company, they wheeled and moved off eastward across the Pelennor.

Legolas rode just behind Pippin and between the sons of Elrond. He waited until the hobbit seemed to be more settled and confident that his seat was not so precarious as he'd feared after all before beginning their agreed tactics.

_'Pippin?'_

_'legolas?'_

_"How do you fare?'_

_'i go good now'_

_'I trust your burden does not trouble you over much?'_

_'it go be much heavrier legolas…'_

_'Can you manage to carry it halfling?'_

_'can'_

_'I would gladly shoulder this burden for a league or two, to give you respite.'_

_'…not burdren – i not got give you!'_

_'I merely offered…'_

_'i go keep It till King take – not say me more!'_

Pippin risked turning a little in his high perch to smile at Legolas. He realised the elf knew his tone was play-acting, that was what he had told the hobbit to say. But still Pippin found it difficult to use such a tone to his dear friend.

The great army journeyed on and, as the sun moved across the sky, Pippin grew weary and his hobbit stomach began to protest at the lack of attention it was receiving. Hobbits, being small, needed to eat little but often and marching with humans and indeed elves, Pippin found neither race seemed to understand this. Legolas started a short dialogue every so often and Pippin was beginning to find this tiring too.

_'Pippin?'_

_'legolas?'_

_'Do you tire?'_

_'do!'_

_'Hmm…'_ Legolas paused. Pippin was not supposed to say this. _'Why do you tire? Does your burden overcome you?'_

_'not! i just be more and more hungrery!'_

_'Patience Pippin, I'm sure we'll eat soon.'_

_'i not can't stinkering wait more!'_

"Pippin!" Legolas said it loud enough for Gandalf, Aragorn and everyone else around him to hear. "Where did you learn such language?"

The hobbit turned around and looked plaintively at Legolas, "Sorry Legolas, my belly teached it to I!"

"Ah, the hobbit is hungry," Gandalf smiled over at Aragorn, "that seems to be a valid reason for halting a seven thousand strong army."

"Indeed, my little friend," Aragorn's features had been understandably grim during the journey so far, but now a small quirk lightened his face, "I will send for the buglers at once to send out the cry that the hobbit hungers and all must wait."

"Strider!" Pippin admonished, although his face had turned bright red, "is you go tease at I?"

"Yes, but we will take some rest now, Pippin," Aragorn lifted his hand to signal to the heralds that the vanguard and all in its wake would set up encampment for the night. "We passed Osgiliath at noon and I would have stopped here in any event."

Gradually the great army halted and all set about the business of feeding and sleeping, both themselves and their mounts. Pippin was lifted down by Legolas and stood in the midst of the busy camp feeling and looking most bewildered. The elf had gone to find grazing for Arod and had taken Shadowfax, Windfola and Hasufel with him. Gandalf and Aragorn were directing sentries and other matters and Gimli…

"What's wrong young hobbit?" Gimli dropped a heavy hand on Pippin's shoulder, making him start with surprise. "You look a little lost."

"Feel big lot lost, Gimli." Pippin admitted. "I not been in warbattle before, what I got to do now?"

"It's very much the same as when we were on the Quest," Gimli explained kindly, "you have to eat and sleep and be ready for the morrow."

"That would normally be the case," Aragorn's voice made both the dwarf and the hobbit turn around in surprise. "But in Pippin's case, I'm afraid we have a lot of work to do."

"Work!" Pippin's jaw dropped in dismay. "Do I have to be go get wood or go make cook things?"

"No, Pippin," Aragorn was not sure which was more touching, Pippin's muddled speech or his muddled thinking that he would have to do the cooking. He stooped down to reach the hobbit's eye level and took his small hands in his comparatively large ones, "I need to know if you have attracted Sauron at all, but I think, from what Legolas says, you have not."

"Don't not think we do." Pippin agreed. "He not come be in we heads at all."

"Then I want to try something else, but Pippin," Aragorn held the little one firmly with his steely gaze, "it's going to be quite dangerous for both of us. I want you to join me as I confront Him, Sauron that is, in the palantír."

************************************************************************************************************

"Arrrcchhh! Sam! Sam!" Frodo slumped face down in the grey ash, his hands clutching frantically at his neck. Samwise was five feet away but reached his master in two heartbeats. Careful not to actually touch the Ring, he lifted Frodo by his shoulders and eased his head into his lap. Frodo clasped the Ring in his hand and lifted it up towards his face, rubbing It against his pale cheek. "It's trying to make me put It on, Sam," he breathed.

"What does it say Mr Frodo?" Sam had heard the Ring calling to him more frequently of late, the same litany, over and over _'take the Ring Samwise, save your Frodo, take Me for your own and save him' _Samhad not even mentioned this to his master, Frodo had enough to worry about.

"It wants me to claim It," Frodo's voice was cracked and hard to hear. Both he and Samwise were suffering severely from water deprivation and speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. "It says I can make everything right with Its power. Bring back Gandalf, make Merry and Pippin whole again, even save Boromir and restore his life. Then It would take us all home and we would live happily for ever in the Shire."

"It's lying, Mr Frodo?" Sam licked his lips to try and find some moisture to help him speak. "I know It's a powerful thing and all, but would It really do all that for us?"

"When It talks to me, all those things seem real." Sam felt Frodo quiver with the pain of the thought. "Everything is so bad here and the Ring tells me it can all be made right again if I would just put It on – It says things about you Sam, that you could marry Rosie Cotton and be the Mayor."

"Well that settles it Mr Frodo," Sam snorted in amazement, "It must be a'lying – neither of those things will ever happen, that's for sure."

"If you say so, Sam," Frodo smiled a little as he rested back in Sam's arms, "but just now, when It hurt me so much, It was screaming, but not at me and I don't think at you either Sam."

"Who was It talking to then?" Sam looked nervously about, "Could it be that Gollum sneaking back up on us?"

"No it was… something in my head." Frodo rubbed his eyes as if trying to remember a recent dream, "there was a sad little voice again, just like Pippin complaining when he's hungry and wants to stop. That's who the Ring was calling to I think."

"It's just getting more and more frantic the nearer we gets." Sam gently smoothed Frodo's hair from out of his eyes, "We mustn't believe what It promises either of us."

"What does It say to you now, Sam?" Frodo accepted the mouthful of water as Sam lifted the bottle to his lips. "I know It talked to you before, does It say the same?"

"It promises me everything I wants, just like It does to you," Sam did not really want to elaborate with any detail. "Although It's getting harder to ignore, because It knows just what I want."

"What's that, Sam?" Frodo was becoming more relaxed now as Sam held him in his arms. He closed his eyes as if he would sleep. "What does the Ring promise you?"

"Promises me that I can save you," Sam muttered the words quietly through his parched lips. "Says that if I was to take It and claim It, I could take you home and you would be well and free."

Frodo's eyes shot open again at Sam's mention of claiming the Ring. He grasped It to his chest and struggled to sit up again. "We have to move on Sam," he gasped with new resolve. "Before It finds what It is looking for."

"What might that be Mr Frodo?" Sam realised that he had upset his master with talk of claiming the Ring, even though Frodo knew he would not try to take It from him.

"Someone to believe It's treacherous lies!" Frodo almost snarled the words as he shook off Sam's arms and pushed himself to his feet.

Sam stood quickly and reached out to steady his master, who almost lost his balance. Frodo was weak and barely able to stand, but even the slightest conflict over the Ring would fire his adrenaline. "Don't take on Mr Frodo," Sam whispered lightly. "I'm not about to even touch It, you know I wouldn't."

"I know Sam," Frodo leant back on the strong arm of his servant. "I'm just afraid for us both – that we might not be able to do this."

"We'll do it Mr Frodo, don't you worry." Sam collected up the small pack and the water bottle that they still had left between them. "I won't let you down, Sir, trust me."

"Oh Sam!" Frodo gave a small wan smile. "I know you'll stay with me to the end. I wish in a way that you wouldn't…" Frodo held up a hand to stop the protest he could see was coming, "…but you promised Gandalf, I know and I would not expect you to break a promise."

"That's right!" Sam said firmly, taking Frodo's arm to help him start back on the long and weary road to Mount Doom.

"There's still something I don't understand though Sam," Frodo frowned again remembering the sad voice that had sounded so like his young cousin. "Do you think the Ring was calling out to the little voice in my head? Do you think It's trying to reach out to Pippin? And if It is, what happens if the Ring finds him?"

************************************************************************************************************

"Are all the people of Rohan so fair?" Merry looked with wonder from Théoden to Éowyn, "Begging your pardon, my Lord, but I did not imagine that you looked so."

"Really?" The King laughed lightly at the hobbit's wide eyes, "What had you thought I would look like?"

"I don't know," Merry suddenly realised that he had not properly visualised his new friends at all, thinking them to be dark like the Westrons and not fair as the elves of Lórien. "I was sure you had a beard, like Aragorn, but I thought it would be the same colour."

"Well I hope the sight of me does not displease you, young Meriadoc." Théoden smiled at Éowyn. "Although I am not so fair as my niece that you would think me an elf."

"Not with your whiskers my Lord," Merry still gazed with unquenched wonder upon the two humans before him. Both had become so well known to him and yet this was the first he had looked up them. "Elves do not grow hair on their faces – nor do hobbits."

"So do elves also sport hairy feet and run unshod?" Théoden asked with amusement.

"Oh no, they do not have such good feet as hobbits." Merry announced proudly, "nor do they smoke pipeweed or eat as many meals a day."

"They do however live a very long time, as will this hobbit if he proves to be a good patient." Éowyn brought the bowl of porridge over to Merry. "It's your favourite time Merry, time to eat."

"Then I shall take my leave." Théoden gave way to his niece and, after kissing Merry on the brow, promised to return later. The healer, Dysgwr opened the door for the illustrious visitor and followed him out of the bedchamber, leaving Merry in Éowyn's capable hands.

"Porridge?" Merry looked sadly at the unexciting repast. "Pip and I had that in Barad-dûr."

"Plain fare for sick hobbits, you'll have to hurry and get well if you want something more delicious," Éowyn smiled, settling herself down to feed the invalid. "Did you have it with sugar in Barad-dûr?"

"Oh yes, Mr Smagnu knew we liked sugar." Merry sighed, "Éowyn, where's Pip now?" 

"I'm not sure exactly, Merry my dear," Éowyn lifted him up a little straighter in the bed. "Come now, I shall feed you as I did in Edoras, do you recall?"

"Could I look out of the window first?" Merry looked askance at the size of the room and the bed that he occupied, always so big in this strange world and somehow, now that he could see it, the large furniture seemed even more daunting. "Could you just show me which way Pip went, so that I could look?"

"Merry, you really are not well enough to be out of bed you know." Éowyn brushed his curls to one side with her hand, a nice hand, small like a hobbit's hand, not big and powerful like the men healers or the other humans he had become used to, small, like Pip's hand.

Merry had not meant to cry, but he felt the tears spring unbidden to his eyes. "I- I know, I'm sorry, I j-just… miss him… I wanted to see him so much, just once and now… now…"

"Oh Merry, I'm sorry." Éowyn felt her own eyes prick with emotion. "Of course, you can look out of the window, if that is what your little heart desires. Hold around my neck." Éowyn placed the bowl on a table and bent down to lift Merry up into her arms.

But even as she bore the small creature up, his trusting arms wrapped firmly about her neck, she felt the little weight being lifted away from her grasp. "Please Milady, allow me to carry the halfling." The strong arms held Merry tightly and turned him around to rest his injured body against a broad chest. "Where would you go to Merry?" Faramir whispered.

"The window." Merry hiccupped back a sob and drew a deep breath to compose himself once more. "I want to see where Pippin went."

Éowyn walked ahead of Faramir and his burden and drew back the heavy curtains, letting in the dim light. Faramir stood Merry on the table that was beneath the window and he and Éowyn held his hands on either side as he was very wobbly. "That is the Pelennor field, Merry." Faramir pointed to the distant plain. "That is where the army assembled before they left, with Pippin at its very head."

"That is also where you and I fought with the Witch King, Merry." Éowyn squeezed his hand as she recalled the little one's bravery in the face of adversity. "We thought you had died, no one thought you would recover, but you have."

"But if Pippin doesn't come back," Merry turned to look at Éowyn in dismay. "It will all have been for nothing."

"No, that's not true, Merry." Faramir said, making the hobbit turn towards him. "See what a miracle you are. You fought the Witch King and survived and now you can even see again. With endurance like that, there is good hope for Pippin."

"And whatever Pippin manages to do, it will not be in vain," Éowyn said softly, "he is doing his duty to his King and the peoples of Middle Earth, that of itself cannot be for nothing."

"I know," Merry sighed as Faramir lifted him down again. "I'm just being selfish, I wanted Pippin so much when I awoke and he was gone again. I am just frightened for him, he's so little and I'm supposed to take care of him. I promised my father and his father a long time ago." Merry's mind raced back to the chocolate incident and he thought of the pledge he had made then to set a good example for Pippin and to always look after him.*

Faramir carried the hobbit back to the big bed and laid him carefully back against the pillows. Éowyn smiled her thanks and took up the porridge dish to feed Merry, now that he had looked his fill.

"If you need no other service of me I shall bid you good day, Milady; Meriadoc." Faramir bent a courteous little bow and backed out of the chamber, albeit rather reluctantly. 

"I would not detain you if you have other matters to attend to, My Lord." Éowyn did not turn her head as she spoke, intent upon spooning the rather cooled porridge into her patient. "But I am grateful for your assistance."

"Then may I call on you soon?" Faramir enquired. "Perhaps when Merry is well enough he would like a walk in the gardens?" Faramir looked pleadingly at Merry while Éowyn still had her back to him.

"That would be very nice." Merry agreed, nodding at Faramir helpfully.

"Then I shall call on you tomorrow?" Faramir waited a little for a positive response, but all he received was another nod from Merry. "Tomorrow then?" 

As the young Steward of the City left the chamber, Merry caught Éowyn with a questioning look. He held up his hand to prevent another spoonful of porridge passing his lips, "Who was that?" he asked in a low tone.

"Why Lord Faramir of course!" Éowyn suddenly realised that it was not always obvious to Merry who everybody was. "Did you not recognise his voice?"

"I had forgotten," Merry admitted, "It is easier to recognise a face than a voice I think."

"So what did you think?" Éowyn tinkled her little laugh again. "Does he meet your expectations?"

"I'm not sure," Merry gave a pretend frown. "But I got the strong feeling that he was more interested in you than in me!"

************************************************************************************************************

_*A Partnership in Villainy _

Author's Excuses

All right – number one – personally I blame Marigold. Oh and Baylor – actually more Baylor this time, although Kookaburra is not totally blameless. The important thing to remember is – it's not my fault!

Marigold is to blame because she envisioned this epic poem in Baylor's story, Fate and the King's High Falcon. If you haven't read it yet – no what am I talking about, of course you've read it – anyway, apparently it was my job, according to Marigold, and who would argue with her, to write the poem for Legolas in Baylor's story. The poem (or lay – it's really a lay) is due to appear in chapter 26 and the good news is that it's actually finished!

But in the meantime, it has been keeping me away from other things. 

That said, there is of course Moria's Revenge, the time spent on which I do not begrudge, because I get to write lots of hobbity angst.

Nevertheless – I am now going to give Recap a lot more attention and shall have the chapters coming much faster from now on – except for my hols in May – but otherwise I hope to keep at it and crave your indulgence in continuing to read it.

Other totally gratuitous ventures include a very silly story, co-written with Kookaburra, Pookie Ze Great and Marigold and Emma called "Spanking Merry", don't ask – just go read. It's under my name on ff.net.

Also I have started to add to my poetry file, which is called "Happy Birthday Professor", there are a couple of extra poems on there now and I will be adding more soon.

One last thing, before your anxious fingers hit the review button – ahem:-). Recaptured now has it's very own website – Emma has made some sketches to illustrate Recaptured. I can't put it in exactly as ff.net strips url's out for some reason, but if you substitute the asterisks for slashes, it should work – enjoy! http:**www.geocities.com*aelfgifuemma*recapturedpics

Oh and if you like "Evil Merry" read Emma's story "Ring Around the Merry", also on ff.net.

And so onwards to:

Q&A – or more accurately C&C (Comments and Comments)

:) :   
Llinos: :) That's a nice name!   
:): Is Pippin going to have withdrawal problems?  
Llinos: Yes  
:): How many more chapter do you have?  
Llinos: Don't know – but I've got a sequel.  
:): Is Pip going to meet up with his orc?  
Llinos: That would be telling!   
:): Oh well I'm waiting anxiously for the next bit and I will be waiting after that and after that until you finish ;)  
Llinos: Oh good!

Tasha: BTW I absolutely *adore* the chapter's title!  
Llinos: Ah Pip – you always were a sucker for titles :-)!

W I L L O W : I like when Pippin's the hero!  
Llinos : Albeit the reluctant hero – poor Pip!

VercisIsolde: his speech is cute, though it's starting to get on my nerves.  
Llinos : What do you think it's doing to Gandalf then?

meatball: Aw! Poor Pippin! I'll ride along side him if he wants!  
Llinos : That's a kind offer, I'm sure there's room on Shadowfax.

august wynd: merry's awake!  
Llinos : Slugabed Merry! Just 'cause he's ill – thinks he can lie in bed all day!   
august wynd: i was beginning to wonder if you had met your death by some angry reviewer upset cuz you had stopped uploading(i would never do that-cough)  
Llinos : Actually the hobbits themselves have started to threaten dire consequences if I don't write them faster.

Shirebound: on your *two* year anniversary of Recaptured you'll probably be working your way through the Appendices  
Llinos : Oh no! I'll be out the other side by then and off into my own universe!

Pickle Flavored Gumball: "You killed the giant spider." (Sorry, but that one line made me laugh just a bit; considering the more dramatic mini-descriptions of the other tasks he had completed in that paragraph of Legolas' speech).  
Llinos : Ah yes – sounds like one he found in the bath – but it was Shelob after all.

QTPie: You've been writing this for a year?  
Llinos : I know – sad innit?

Zebra Wallpaper: Anyway, sorry to babble and not say anything really of use,  
Llinos : Leaving a stunning and incisive review is not babbling or of no use, no matter how much you protest! Thanks for the kind words!

Artemis-chan:  Can I just give them big motherly hugs right about now?  
Llinos : I'll pass them on when no one is looking – all right? (They said thanks!)

Pearl Took: Minas Tirith a village, as London or New York are I suppose!  
Llinos : Absolutely – just like Tuckborough to Pippin – well not quite maybe.

Baylor: Here's to another year!  
Llinos : Thanks Jessie and sorry for blaming all my lack of industry on you – but it was your fault:-)!

Mistoffelees: HA HA! Gimli's a woman.  
Llinos : You can laugh – but he's not amused!

Jenni: First of all I would like to apologise. I have been reading RECAPTURED for months and have never once reviewed it  
Llinos : You are only forgiven if you keep reviewing.

Katakanadian: Did I just write that out loud?  
Llinos : Yes and it was splendid! If anyone is wondering what – go and read Katakanadian's review of chapter 15.

Natta: Hey, we should have a virtual party!  
Llinos : Okay, you bring the virtual champagne and I'll bring the virtual chocolates – don't worry about the diet – they're full of virtual calories!

Herald7: I am curious to know how this all ends :)  
Llinos : Me too!

Aurora: Merry not wanting to get his sight back without Pippin being there!  
Llinos : Do you think Éowyn made up for it? No, probably not.

Shiremaidens: please explain for me: "You're not go be too shy are you Gimli?" Pippin looked at the dwarf carefully with a critical expression. "I too think you are some little bit – are you?"  
Llinos : Pip's implying (yes Marigold implying! Private joke - sorry) that Gimli is female.

Kookaburra: Congratulations on the best story on the 'net!  
Llinos : Blush – Aw shucks! Oh with the exception of Moria's Revenge of course :-)!

oumpa-loumpa: Now I have all these horrible images in my mind. Write more so I know what happens!  
Llinos : Well Oumps that won't necessarily make it better.

Scifinut-Aniron: I can't wait to see what Pippin's reaction will be if Frodo's mindspeak to him actually works.  
Llinos : Whoa – getting there, but you move too fast – whatever I don't think it will be good!

Lorelle Erelen: Wait! NO! Don't kill anyone else! And write more!  
Llinos : Who? Who'd I kill! Okay – I'll write more then!

ssi3 Thomas: Yay Marigold has lots of stickesses to keep you writing, or does she?  
Llinos :Ah yes, but she can't reach me now! – Ow! stop that!

Jeodo : I hope that the mindspeak tool will continue. It's absolutely charming.  
Llinos _: i go write more more – you go keep – um big word ree and view but say togrethrer – revreue – say things at i!_

Kukume: I've also been wondering what would happen if Smagnu and Grutfley saw Pippin.  
Llinos : Oh but what are the chances? :-)!

Pearl Took: No Killing of Pippin is allowed!  
Llinos : Not making promises I can't keep Pearl - :-)!

roadkill-writer: Oh, and are you thinking of putting any more Pippin, Merry and Boromir angst in?  
Llinos : Not promising – never promsis! But you never know!

Brenda: So, need I continue to gush.  
Llinos : Of course – always – gushing from you Brenda makes for faster chapters – you know that!

Aurora : I hope there isn't a month before the next chapter.  
Llinos : Oh me too – sorry to keep you waiting! Hangs head in shame and starts writing next chapter at once. 

Heddwch

Llinos


	17. Who Wants To Play?

Recaptured – Chapter 109  
Who Wants To Play?

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold  
  
"Pippin, try not to be afraid, I know it's asking a lot, but this is important." Aragorn took the cloth-shrouded sphere from his bag and carried it over to where the hobbit sat on the corner of the ranger's bedroll in his tent. They were alone, as Aragorn did not want any others to be influenced or caught up in the palantír's thrall. 

Pippin understood this only too well, he had gazed into the magical seeing stones on three occasions and each had not been good. The first had been when Saruman had held him over the stone and forced him to gaze into it. It was just after that that his speech and hearing were taken and the two events were inextricably linked in Pippin's memory. 

The second occasion had been when the stone itself had compelled him to steal it from Aragorn's bag, by what force Pippin never knew. Following that he had been stolen away by the Witch King who had found him by means of the palantír. 

The third time had been when the great Lord Denethor had encouraged him to look so that he could share with Pippin the last moments of his beloved son, Boromir. Then the Dark Lord Himself had come, but Pippin, through great strength of will had managed to shield himself, and his knowledge of the Ring, from Sauron. Except for one little slip – he had shown Merry riding towards Gondor with the Rohirrim – that had been a bad mistake.

"Not afraid, Strider," Pippin gave a small grin, "hungry. I not gotted second breakfast or elevenses or lunch…"

"Enough!" Aragorn laughed out loud, "shall I fetch you the bill of fare for the camp then before we proceed?"

"No, I only make joke at you," Pippin's eyes fastened greedily on the orb that Aragorn was holding, "I feels it already – it makes me forgetted, forgetting – not remember about foods."

"I know how deeply you are drawn to the palantíri," Aragorn said gently, "and that they hold bad memories for you, but Pippin, I would not ask you to do this if it were not important."

"I know Strider." Pippin sighed a little, "I just got hoped I can do it not wrong."

"You mean do it right?" Aragorn placed the still shrouded palantír on top of his luggage and offered Pippin his hand.

"Yes – what I sayed." Pippin took the proffered hand and, standing up, allowed Aragorn to manoeuvre him to the opposite side of the mysterious orb. "Not wrong – I mean rightly, do it **_right!" _**The hobbit spat the last word through clenched teeth as he fought to say the correct words. "Strider, is I ever again be going to talk not wrong?"**__**

"One thing at time, Pippin," Aragorn patted the small hand, "I don't really understand why your speech is so confused, I've never encountered anything like it before. But once this is over I promise we will try to make it better."

"How you go do it?" Pippin frowned, "You go be bettrer healing most of any othrers, you not can't do it!"

"I think you need elven healing, Pip," the ranger thought for a moment, "I suspect the Lord Elrond, or perhaps the Lady Galadriel would be able to return your speech to normal. But Pippin," Aragorn bent to look into the hobbit's anxious eyes, "I know it's not much comfort to you, but I'm getting used to your odd speech and it's really rather endearing."

"Strider!" Pippin gave a nervous giggle, "you go be tease I again."

"Well, perhaps a little," he admitted, "but don't worry too much, as Legolas says, it's very hobbity. But the important thing Pippin," Aragorn looked at him sternly. "Legolas also told me how much you and Merry have grown, especially in your mental powers. I know you have confronted Sauron before in the palantír from the report you gave of your dealings with Denethor. Also you and Merry are much stronger since your confrontation with the Dark Lord in Barad-dûr, I am confident you can manage this if you stay true to your dear hobbit nature – that, together with the control you have learnt in your mental abilities, will enable us to win this battle."

"Thank you Strider," Pippin said solemnly. "I will go do it all best I got." 

"I know you will." Aragorn drew himself up now and the hobbit could see him summoning all his resources. The ranger seemed to almost grow in stature and Pippin tried to emulate the feelings and as he did he felt a little thrill run through his body as if touched by something outside himself. He knew at once it was the palantír calling to him.

Slowly Aragorn pulled the cloth away from the orb and placed both his hands around it. He glanced briefly at Pippin and saw that the hobbit was tense and focussed on what he was doing, with his hands held ready to touch the glass as soon as commanded. The ranger was sure that the hobbit could maintain his control and not be drawn to the palantír too soon.

Aragorn spoke no words, but gazed deep into the depths of the Stone of Orthanc. Gradually he felt the will of the Other draw towards him, trying to force his mind to bend to His own will. The uncrowned King steeled his strength and fought back, bending the thoughts of his opponent to gaze upon that which he commanded. Their minds twisted and turned, vying for control, until slowly, inch by inch, Aragorn pushed their perception to a vision of Isildur and the sword of Elendil. He felt the other's mind pause, a streak of doubt wracking across His might. As soon as that tremor echoed through the rangers' fingertips he knew he could win the fight. 

He made the Other – Sauron, for it was He – look upon a line of Kings, stretching back to the time of His downfall, when the Ring was smitten from His body and all was lost. Aragorn allowed the image to trickle at first then to flood through their link, heir after heir gradually growing stronger and even as He, Sauron, recovered His might, so too had the soon to be King Elessar equalled him in strength of will and purpose.

But the Ring – what of that? Aragorn felt Sauron taunt him, the Ring is out of reach of all, you have It not! Aragorn reached into his furthest reserves of strength and, opening his eyes, nodded to Pippin.

The hobbit, without hesitation, did as his future High King bade him and placed his tiny hands upon the palantír. He quivered a little as he felt the power of the two great beings struggling for control of the Seeing Stone. He could easily distinguish which was which. Aragorn glowed with a golden haze that took Pippin's breath away, but Sauron was bathed in a black purple velvet, deep and endless but strangely inviting nevertheless.

The purple pulled at the hobbit, probing and questioning, not with words, but thoughts, delving into his mind and looking, questing for something. The gold did not try to stop the interrogation, but rather led Pippin forward, pushed him towards the purple velvet pit.

Suddenly, a memory raced across Pippin's mind, he was looking for something – no for someone. It must be… no – not that thought! Don't find him it's a secret. Someone else, someone just as dear – where are you? Pippin suddenly shouted out loud, "Fwodo!"

***********************************************************************************************************

Pippin was 4 years old, his father's birthday had just been celebrated and many uncles and aunts and cousins were staying at the family home before making their various long journeys home. The little hobbit was curled up in a tiny ball, tucked under a window seat hidden behind the thick drapes that adorned the storage space beneath. He was sobbing bitterly.

"What's this?" A voice followed by a chink of light as the drapes were pulled back, made Pippin pause in his crying. He rubbed his sore eyes and peeped out. He saw cousin Frodo peering back in at him. "What's the matter Pipsqueak? Are you hurt?"

"No, not hurt." Pippin sniffed loudly and rubbed his sleeve across his runny little nose. "Playing."

"Well playing is supposed to be fun, my love. Come here." Frodo gently pulled the little one out of his hidey-hole and sat him on the window seat. The older hobbit produced a large, clean handkerchief from his pocket and held it spread over Pippin's nose. "Now blow," he commanded. Pippin obeyed with a small snort. "Again and harder," ordered Frodo.

This time the tiny hobbit made a better show and Frodo wiped his nose and dried his eyes with the clean part that was left of the hankie. "Now what are you crying about?" Frodo asked again.

"Not cwying now Fwodo." Pippin sniffed again and snuggled into his cousin's side.

"All right, what were you crying about?" Frodo smiled at Pippin's inability to manage the letter 'r' still. "Tell cousin Fwodo," he mimicked.

"We was playing hide and seek," Pippin explained, "only I thinked I hided too good and Mewwee and Evwad and Fweddy couldn't find me and I gotted lonely."

"Oh is that what it was!" Frodo cuddled Pippin a little closer. "I saw them just now and they said they couldn't find you because you'd hidden so well."

"Did they?" Pippin perked up a little at this suggestion.

"Oh yes," Frodo nodded, "and they asked me if I could help to find you – and so I did. You are good at hiding Peregrin Took, but you can't fool me."

"No Fwodo." Pippin agreed nearly smiling now, "Do you want to play too? Shall we tell the others you're playing now?"

"All right, then," Frodo lifted Pippin down from the window seat, "come on let's go and find them."

Pippin eagerly latched onto his big cousin's hand and they set off to look for the other hide and seekers, who they eventually discovered sitting in the kitchen. Fourteen year old Everard Took was telling Fredegar and Merry how he had saved a young hobbit lass from drowning in the Brandywine by leaping in fully clothed and swimming against the current for five miles. Freddy, was somewhat sceptical, but twelve year old Merry was open-mouthed in admiration. 

"Hey lads!" Frodo said in a loud jocular voice. "Look I managed to find him. He was very well hidden."

"What?" Everard blurted in surprise. Fredegar quickly kicked him under the table. "Oh yes, Pippin, hide and seek! Well done cousin Frodo!"

"Were we playing hide and seek?" Merry looked genuinely surprised.

"Er yes, we told Pippin he could play," Fredegar winked conspiratorially at Merry, "he's so good at hiding though, sometimes we just never find him."

"Well I'm afraid he wasn't good enough for me!" Frodo exclaimed with a wide grin. "Now then, that means it's your turn to hide and Pippin will have to find you. Come on Pippin, hide your eyes and count to one hundred."

"I can't count that many Fwodo." Pippin looked a little dismayed. "I can only do ten."

"That's all right, Pip," Merry came and squatted down in front of his little cousin, "just count to ten, ten times." Then, as Pippin put his hands up over his eyes ready to count, Merry lifted his fingers away from his face again and looked hard at him. "Have you been crying Pip?"

"No, Mewwee" Pippin's bottom lip jutted out a little as he suddenly felt the tears well up again, "I only did a little bit." He added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I thought that you'd fowgotted to look for me."

"Of course we didn't," Merry turned back to the two older lads with a look that spoke volumes. "Only some of us didn't know we were playing!" He turned back to Pippin. "Do you think you can find us on your own? You'll have to look really hard."

"Yes Mewwee, and is Fwodo going to play too?" Pippin had covered up his eyes again, ready to begin counting; he parted his fingers and peeped up at his tweenage cousin.

"Yes," Frodo laughed, "and Fwodo will play too!"

"Good," said Pippin. He closed his fingers and started. "One, two, thwee…"

"Come on," Merry shoved Freddy and Everard towards the door with a look that brooked no argument. "Remember, no hiding together and no giving up until you're found."

Freddy and Everard scowled in annoyance, but one look from Frodo assured them they had better play properly or he would want to know why.

"…seven, eight, nine, ten… Coming weddy or not!" When Pippin opened his eyes all the older lads were gone. He giggled with glee, especially when the scullery maid, Buttercup, pointed to the big door that led back into the main Smials corridor.

Freddy and Everard were discovered quite quickly. Pippin triumphantly pulled back the curtain in front of a window when he saw two pairs of hairy feet sticking out from under the drape. "You cheated!" the four year old exclaimed. "You not susposed to hide together!" 

"Oh sorry, Pip." Freddy said linking arms with Everard as they headed back to the kitchen, "but you've found us now, well done."

Pippin scampered off along the door-lined tunnel, opening each door as he went and shouting at the top of his voice, "Mewwee! Fwodo!" Then banging the door after finding no response. Several uncles had their afternoon naps disturbed and quite a few aunts just sighed and shook their heads in dismay. The Smials could be a noisy place at times.

His progress was interrupted by Pearl, "Pippin my lambkin, stop making so much noise," his big sister caught him by his waist and swung him up into her arms. "You're waking up all the aunts and uncles and you remember what father said about that?"

"But Puwrl! I got to find Mewwee and Fwodo!"

"Well maybe they don't want you to find them," she laughed. Pearl was well aware that her baby brother tended to latch on to people who found the youngster a bit of a nuisance.

"No – we playing hide and seek and I'm it!" Pippin explained breathlessly, "Put me down Puwrl I got to find them quick."

"Well which one do you want to find first?" Pearl swung him down to the ground again and set him on his feet.

"Well, I like Fwodo everso much," Pippin thought for a moment. "But I love Mewwee!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"In that case," Pearl lifted up an admonishing finger, "just try to think very hard about Merry then perhaps you'll see in your mind where he is – but do try and be quiet my darling."

"But I want to find Mewwee seconded." Pippin frowned. "I want to find Fwodo firsted, because he founded me and I don't want him to cwy, cause I didn't not look for him."

"In that case," Pearl laughed at her little brother's logic. "Try not to think about Merry and see what you do find."

"All wight," Pippin nodded and trotted off happily along the corridor, this time opening the doors as quietly as he could and peeping inside, whispering, "Mewwee? Fwodo?"

Finally the little hobbit came to a door that he had to stand on tiptoe to open. He turned the handle and the great door swung in with a loud creak, inside it was very dark. There was a dank musty smell as of old turnips but also the sound of breathing. "Mewwee is that you?"

No reply.

"Mewwee?" Pippin stepped a few paces inside the dark cellar and took a deep breath. "I'se not fwightened, Mewwee, is you in hewre?"

The door creaked closed behind him and Pippin swung round to see the last chink of light disappear. "Mewwee please be in hewre!" Pippin's voice rose a little in panic. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed hold of him, "aiiee!" he squeaked in fear.

"Hush Pippin, don't be frightened, it's only me, Uncle Bilbo."

"Sowwry Uncle Bilbo, you scwareded me!" Pippin felt his heartbeat gradually slow down again. "I bested open the door again so we can see out." Pippin quickly wriggled from the grasp of his older cousin's hand and scurried to push to large door open once more, making sure it was wide enough this time not to swing shut. He turned quickly and gasped in surprise. Bilbo wasn't there.

"Uncle Bilbo, where you did go to?" The confused youngster stood in the doorway and gazed about. Nothing! He folded his arms in exasperation and marched forward and then stopped suddenly with two loud "omphs!" One from him and one from someone else, who sounded suspiciously like his tricksy cousin. "Uncle Bilbo, is you playing a game with me?" Pippin giggled. "Are you playing hide and seek, same as Fwodo and Mewwy and me?"

"Err, yes, my lad." Bilbo's voice was close enough but still Pippin couldn't see him. Then suddenly, he appeared right before the little hobbit's amazed eyes. There was a clink-chunk sound and something bright and golden lay on the floor between them. Pippin, being much nearer to the ground, and not nearly so stout as Bilbo, agilely scooped it up and held it in his hand. It was the most beautiful, perfect golden ring the little hobbit had ever seen. Even his mother's jewellery, which had been amassed over many generations of wealthy Tooks could not rival this wonderful piece of precious metal.

Pippin smiled and rubbed it against his face, "pwetty," he breathed.

Bilbo snatched it from him and stowed it quickly in his pocket. "Yes my lad, it's very pretty, but don't you go talking about it to anyone, it's my private business, do you understand."

Pippin nodded his head in surprise. "How did you go unvisibul, Uncle Bilbo?" he asked guilelessly as only a four year old can, "was it magnic?"

"Yes my lad, magic!" Bilbo agreed, "Now what are you up to in this wine cellar young Peregrin?"

"I was looking for Fwodo and Mewwy," Pippin announced proudly, "we playing hide and seek and I'm it!"

"Oh I see," Bilbo nodded with a smile. "Well I was playing hide and seek too, only my 'It' was your Aunt Lobelia. Now, do you want me to help you find them?"

"No I can do it myself." Pippin declared with confidence. Then he looked back at Bilbo for a moment with a knowing little smile. "When you die can I have your ring Uncle?"

"Oh I'm going to live longer than the Old Took, you cheeky thing." Bilbo laughed, "But maybe I'll give it to you one day – when you're grown up."

"That's no good," Pippin pouted, "I'll be too big to play hide and seek then."

"Don't you believe it." Bilbo shook his head, "some things you never grow out of."

"Oh!" Pippin sighed and trotted off again in search of his missing cousins. "Mewwy, Fwodo, whewre are you?"

***********************************************************************************************************

Pippin started at the sudden noise, then realised it was his own voice that had shouted out his cousin's name. The view in the palantír swirled and changed and Pippin realised only seconds had passed. He felt the purple velvet close around him and the memory of the Ring, of himself at four years old, holding and touching the Ring, asking Bilbo to give it to him.

He looked up at Aragorn and saw that he was smiling at him with a slight furrow on his brow as if he were totally amazed at what the hobbit had revealed to both him and Sauron. But none of these feelings filtered through to the thoughts in the palantír.

Pippin felt himself drawn back into the memories, pushing him, probing his mind, making him tell more. Asking unrelenting questions. **'WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE IS IT?'**

_'merry – not merry – not think that'_

Pippin's mind raced in circles. He felt Aragorn trying to ease him away from the probing, to shield him. He tried to pull away from the palantír, but it was too late – it held him fast. The almost forgotten memory he had deliberately shown to Sauron of him holding the Ring and rubbing it against his face was too great a pull for the Dark Mind that now pursued him.

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Pippin ran on down the long corridor of his memory. The four-year-old hobbit pulled open doors, longing to find his cousins, whilst the hobbit he had grown into looked on with dread, not wanting it to happen, but knowing it would. Which would it be? Who would he find first? Pippin couldn't remember now. Merry or Frodo?

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_'fwodo!' _

"Sam! It's him again – I can hear Pip now I know I can." Frodo caught hold of Sam's arm and stood stock still staring up into the sky as if Pippin would suddenly appear there. "He called to me as he used to when he was very little."

"Perhaps it's just your memory playing tricks Mr Frodo." Sam suggested. "I mean why would Mr Pippin sound like when he was little? Course last we saw him, the poor thing couldn't talk at all."

"Well it felt like something Pip was remembering too, a game – a game of hide and seek we played once at the Great Smials." Frodo smiled at the memory, "he was only four and Freddy and Everard were teasing him as usual. They told him to go and hide and then didn't look for him."

"Poor Pippin," Sam sympathised. He had never been one for teasing, especially young ones. "What did you do?"

"Oh Merry and I made sure he had a proper game." Frodo felt his heart lighten a little at the unaccustomed thought, something other than his Quest and the Ring, "we hid properly and made him look for us."

_'fwodo! i founded you'_

_'pip?'_

_'frodo you not have to go say things at i…'_

_'pippin! how are you talk in head me?'_

_'fwodo i go looked for you – we play hide go seek membrer?'_

_'frodo don't talk at littlel pip – he not know what good say…'_

_'pippin it sound as if two of you there be – how is it – this?'_

_'littlel pip is just a memorary frodo – he not real now…'_

_'pippin are you well? is merry well?'_

_'frodo not talk at i – it not be good now' _Pippin gulped and looked up at Aragornwho was obviously following some of the conversation through the palantír but deemed it safer to let Pippin deal with it. The little hobbit suddenly felt an enormous weight of responsibility on his slight shoulders and decided to take a chance.

_'frodo? you not got take Ring from i! go way from me!'_

_'pip what do you mean?'_

_'it my Ring frodo get out my head now!'_

Pippin knew in that moment that Aragorn had sent him an extra wave of strength, he felt the power of the great man surge through him. Determinedly the little hobbit summoned up the image he wanted. He moved inside Frodo's head and reached out to touch his soul, then he pulled the Ring towards him and placed it firmly about his neck.

Breathing raggedly Pippin and Aragorn held the image steadily in place while Sauron, while the Dark Lord, tried to reach out and touch Pippin, to take back His own. A dark clawing hand felt the One Ring in His grasp. But It was unreal, It was in the palantír and about the neck of a small hobbit. That hobbit! One of the twain he had condemned to death, the ones that had somehow escaped Him. But no more! Now He knew for certain. The infuriating little creature rode with the approaching army and carried the One Ring for the dreaded heir of Isildur. Now He must have it and with it – the Ring.

Sauron left the palantír, to summon His remaining Nazgûl.

Pippin felt the cling of the palantír lessen and release him. His knees sagged and he dropped senseless to the ground. Aragorn pulled his own hands from the glowing orb and knelt to gently lift Pippin's head from the ground. The ranger loosened Pippin's coat and his shirt beneath, then pulled back a little as his hand made contact with the hobbit's skin. It was hot.

Aragorn looked at the place that he had touched. Burnt into the skin was the impression of a ring upon a chain.

TBC

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Author's Notes

Well how's this for speed? When I said I hoped to update faster I didn't necessarily mean this fast, but I will try to keep up some momentum. Nevertheless, it was aided and abetted by the wonderful influx of speedy reviews – a million thanks for those and Marigold's swift turnaround beta-ing, especially as we had to have a little argument about some of the whys and wherefores in this chapter – but think we got them all resolved quickly. 

Oh and thanks as well for all your jolly comments. I enjoy our little chats at the end of each chapter.

Now here's today's chat:-

lindelea: I first read this as "send for the burglars" and was a bit puzzled  
Llinos: Sticklebacks! I wish I'd thought of that! They could have stolen some grub for Pip!  
lindelea: ...must you? Take hols, I mean?  
Llinos: Yup – it's all booked – going to Sorrento on 2nd May!

Sue: What a great chapter, well worth the wait.  
Llinos: Well this one was certainly quicker – I hope you still liked it.

Artemic-chan: , I hope Pip's not hurt by helping Aragorn with the whole Sauron problem  
Llinos: Whoops! Sorry Artemis!

Periadoc: Foolish friends don't want to get into it  
Llinos: Tell them they can stop at any time. If they start reading and want to stop – I won't prosecute!

QTPie: all the hobbits should learn mindspeak and have one huge telepathic party and make fun of everyone who can't hear them  
Llinos: Don't tempt me! That is far too an appealing idea!

Pansy Chubb: Very cute how Pippin thought Aragorn was going to send him to find firewood or cook.  
Llinos: Well that was what he always used to do – bossy old King!

meatball: What's gonna happen to Frodo and Sam??!  
Llinos: Well I don't know – but it won't be the same as the book.

gilly: were no where near the end of this story are we? ::freaks out:: please say no!  
Llinos: Okay – no.

aelfaifu: (Emma) oh--one question--what does "Heddwch" mean. Sounds terribly Welsh  
Llinos: It means "peace" and, yes, it's Welsh. Oh and I'll check out RATM 11 when I stop writing this for five mins.

Natta: I've been thinking and realised this story is so good we should have it as a category and write fanfiction about it.  
Llinos: So how would that work?

Shiremaidens: despite how late it was, but I'll let it go since it was well worth the wait.

Llinos: Good – am I forgiven now?

shirebound: Nasty Baylor, Marigold and Kookaburra  
Llinos: That's what I keep saying – but they don't believe me! :-) 

Brenda: After 5.5 hours in the car in stand still traffic with my parents  
Llinos: Why do you do that? Anyway I hope another quick chapter makes you feel even better.

Arch M. This is one of my favourite stories (along with Moria's Revenge).  
Llinos: Obviously a reader of infinite good taste! Brava!


	18. Peregrin The Ringbearer

Recaptured – Chapter 110

Peregrin the Ringbearer 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Mister Frodo! What happened?" Sam was used to his master behaving strangely since they had begun their terrible march across Mordor but this was something new. In the last few moments Frodo had stood motionless, staring into thin air and clutching at his throat gasping for breath. His brow was furrowed as if in pain and tears ran down his cheeks leaving little white tracks on his skin as the warm water trickled through the dirt and grime.

Gradually his breathing eased and he sank down to sit on the rocky ash-covered ground. "It's all right Sam, I'm all right." Frodo drew one long breath and reached inside his shirt, an almost habitual gesture now, to find the Ring, He drew it away from his skin and ran his other hand around his neck, rolling his shoulders to ease a tight muscle. 

Sam had drawn closer and was peering at Frodo's neck with disbelief. "The marks on your neck, where that wretched Ring burnt you, they're fading Mr Frodo. I can't believe it – it's a miracle!"

"It is," Frodo agreed, "It feels now as if some of the weight were lifted off my neck and the hurt is far less. It's as if someone were sharing the pain with me."

"Oh Mister Frodo, you know I gladly would do that if I could." Sam said with some dismay. "I'd give anything to save you from that cruel thing – you know I would!"

"I know Sam," Frodo patted his gardener on the shoulder. "I know you would. But I think it was Pippin. He came to me, he was talking in my head."

"Like Mr Merry and Mr Pippin did before, to each other?" Sam's jaw dropped open in wonder. "Why Mr Frodo you three will be talking to each other all over the Shire and put the Messengers out of a job."

"I'm not sure about that," Frodo held Sam's gaze with his sad eyes. "Do you remember how when I heard Pippin before, he was grieving because he had lost Merry? Well that had not changed, I had no sense of Merry being anywhere." Frodo rubbed his sleeve across his face, brushing at the tears, "Oh Sam, I think Merry must be dead."

Sam felt his own eyes fill up. Ever since the young master of Bag End had arrived, the one Brandybuck he had kept in regular touch with had been Master Merry and the young gardener had grown to love him dearly too. "I'm so sorry Mr Frodo, I know how much Mr Merry meant to you – and especially to Mr Pip, he must be powerful sad to have lost his closest cousin. Do you know how it happened?"

"I think it was something to do with a fight," Frodo had not been able to exactly make out what had happened to Merry, it was just a vague thought at the back of the hobbit's memory. "I got the feeling that Meriadoc fought with a powerful wraith!"

"My that would have been a terrible foe – poor Merry." Sam knew neither of them should dwell on this terrible loss though. He sniffed and dried his eyes and nose on his grubby sleeve. "What else did Mr Pip tell you?"

"It was the strangest thing Sam," Frodo rubbed his hand over the scars left by the Ring's burning, now much less angry than before. "First there was an echo of Pippin as a child, but then I heard grown Pippin as he is now. He sounded angry, he shouted at me to go away and that the Ring was his."

"Mr Pippin's should know better than to act like that, even if it was just in your head!" Sam looked even more bemused. He had been very much in awe of Merry and Pippin's apparent ability and now Frodo was in touch and even arguing with his cousin. Sam was glad he was not troubled with such things; he was not sure how he would deal with it. "Why would he do that to you?"

"He scared me Sam!" Frodo caught Sam's shoulder and stared frantically at his surprised companion, "Why does Pippin want to take the Ring from me?"

"I don't know Mr Frodo, I'm sure." Sam scratched his head, truly puzzled and confused by this information. "Was it the same as when Boromir tried to take it?"

"No," Frodo admitted, a little calmer now, "I could not feel any great desire from Pippin. It was just as if… as if he was teasing me with it. Like a child does when they steal a toy from another and runs off with it – just in play – you know."

"But Mr Pippin isn't here even," Sam pointed out. "So he couldn't take the Ring in any case."

"I know, but it's as if he were tormenting me with the idea that he will take It." Frodo clutched at the precious piece of gold again. "Thinking that he is the Ringbearer and that he will take It and… and… that was the odd thing Sam…"

"What Mr Frodo," his master had stopped talking and was staring into thin air, his hand tightly clasped around the Ring. "What was odd?"

"He was going to give it to Strider!"

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"Meriadoc, you haven't eaten your supper," Dysgwr frowned at the halfling, as he lay propped up on the pillow, his eyes closed and a tray of food barely touched in front of him on a small table. "Do you want me to feed you after all?"

Merry jumped a little at the healer's voice and opened his eyes, still a little disorientated to actually see things when he did. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't very hungry."

"Then you are hurting?" Éowyn came into the room expecting to find Merry finished. "I don't believe a hobbit would refuse food otherwise." She came to his side and moved the tray of coddled eggs and bread and butter to one side so she could sit on the bed. "At least drink your milk." Éowyn took the cup and placed Merry's hands around it as she had when she nursed him in Edoras and he was still blind. 

This at least brought a half smile to Merry's lips and he took a small sip of the milk but then handed the cup back to Éowyn. "I really don't want anything, Milady, I'm sorry to be a nuisance."

"Merry you are never that," Éowyn smiled at Dysgwr, who shook his head in amusement. Of all the patients he had ever taken care of, the hobbit was probably the least complaining and most polite he had come across. "But tell me what's wrong – are you in pain or really just not hungry, or is it something else?"

"I- I am hurting, but that's not why," Merry admitted. He put his hand up to the bandages on his chest and pressing there while he coughed a little. "I'm worried about Pip, I- I can't stop thinking about what might happen and then… then… I felt something… I- I…"

"Merry you know you must not speak to Pippin." Éowyn said gently. She could see he was very upset and she did not want to distress him more. "Remember what Gandalf said? It is most important that you do not attempt to communicate with Peregrin during this time."

"I didn't talk to him," Merry said anxiously, "truly I would not do that. But I can't help hearing him."

"Oh I see," Éowyn did have a limited experience of mindspeak from when Legolas had linked with her to the hobbits when Pippin was injured. "Was he talking to Legolas?"

"No, that would have been easier to ignore," Merry furrowed his brow as he recalled the strange exchange he had overheard. "He was talking to Frodo I think."

"Frodo!" Éowyn exclaimed, "but how? You have never been able to talk to him before have you?"

"No," Merry agreed. "The only ones have been…" He started to count off on his fingers. " First it was Legolas and Pip and then me." Merry thought a bit more. "Then Pip and I could talk without Legolas, sometimes Gandalf, but he doesn't like to talk with us much – only when he really has to." Merry gave a little grin, "His head is too big!"

Éowyn laughed, "Do you mean that? Or do you mean his mind is too much for hobbits?"

"Yes, that's what I meant," Merry conceded, he was up to four fingers now. "Then you talked with us Éowyn, through Legolas, but no one else, that's five." He paused and looked at Éowyn quizzically, "should I include Sauron and the Wraith? They spoke in our heads, but we didn't want them too."

"I suppose they count," Éowyn agreed. "So that's seven altogether. Perhaps you hobbits are just getting very good at this."

"Legolas thinks it is a latent ability and that perhaps all hobbits could mindspeak once, but that they have forgotten how." Merry's face clouded over again as he remember his original worry. "But it seems strange that I could suddenly hear Pip talking to Frodo."

"Perhaps it is some other influence?" Éowyn suggested. "What were they talking about? Could you tell?"

"Yes, but it was complicated." Merry closed his eyes as if to think more clearly. "It was something from before. Something Pip had done before… I'm not sure… it was… Oh my!" Merry's eyes shot open wide with shock. "It was that seeing stone again! Pip was looking in it with Aragorn!" The hobbit's voice sank down to a whisper, "they were with the Dark Lord, showing Him things – I'm not sure what, something about a game and then…then… Oh I can't say."

"Games with the Dark Lord? Serious matters indeed Master Perian," Faramir had been ushered into the room by Dysgwr and had caught the end of Merry's recollection. 

Éowyn turned at the sound of his voice, "No matter for jest either sir," she said abruptly. "We all stand yet in His peril!"

"No jest was meant," Faramir came over to the bed and gave a little bow to Éowyn and then to Merry, "I did not intend to intrude and my voice was merely light at the sight of the fair Éowyn."

"Pretty words indeed, sir," Éowyn smiled now, "but Merry is troubled by a conversation he overheard in Pippin's mind and he is endeavouring to discover what it means."

"You are not intruding Lord Faramir," Merry attempted to hitch himself a little more upright in the bed to greet his latest visitor. "We would welcome your opinion. Well," he glanced surreptitiously at Éowyn, "I would."

"Yes, we would." Éowyn agreed with a smile at Merry. She could see that her comrade still was not too sure of her feelings towards the handsome young Captain, she was not even too sure herself yet. "Do you know anything of these matters Captain Faramir?"

"Of mindspeak, only observing the elf and you Milady, when you helped the halflings, but I know something of the seeing stones," Faramir admitted, his eyes dropped down to gaze at his feet and his voice was tinged with pain. "My father, it was rumoured, met regularly with his enemy and wrestled with Him in the palantír. This was talk and rumour in the Citadel, but I know that it was true for I had seen him myself."

"You mean you have looked in the glass ball?" Merry looked at Faramir in amazement. "Why would you do that?"

"No, I did not use it myself." Faramir met Merry's astonished gaze, "but I have seen my father commune with the palantír. He would always be drained and weary afterwards and often seemed unreasonable, a little mad the servants would whisper. But he did not know I had seen and I understood why he would appear to lose his reason, it was a powerful thing."

"Yes," Merry remembered the times Pippin had fallen under its thrall. "Pip looked in a palantír twice to my knowledge and it always ended in trouble."

"I understand he used it again, with Lord Denethor." Faramir had been told of the events leading up to his father's death. "But I know not what madness drove either of them to do so."

"I think it can be quite compelling," Merry ventured. "From what I heard in Pip's mind. Now I think he has used it again and met with the Dark Lord once more."

"Do you think that is how he made contact with Frodo?" Éowyn suggested. "Perhaps the power of the palantír enabled him to reach out further."

"I don't know Milady," Merry shook his head, but stopped as it hurt too much. "But whatever he did it has hurt him, I can't feel him now, but when last I did, he was in pain and then he became silent – that's why I am worried."

"What happened before that?" Faramir asked. "Do you know what caused the hurt?"

"It was a great effort that Pip used," Merry frowned. "Then he – he did something strange. It was as if he reached out and took the Ring from Frodo – he became the Ringbearer."

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"Pippin, Pippin! Come along, open your eyes." Aragorn patted the hobbit's cheek trying to get him to awaken. "I know you're tired, but I think you are hungry too." He hoped the jest might bring Pippin's attention back where other words failed.

"What have you done to my hobbit?" Legolas knew something was amiss from the reverberations in his own mind and had made his way swiftly back to the camp. "Pippin! What ails him Aragorn?" The elf knelt down next to the ranger and took a small hand in his and rubbed it between his own, lifting it up to his face every so often to feel the warmth or lack of it.

"He has taken a greater task upon himself than I ever expected," Aragorn said quietly, "I asked him to look into the palantír with me as I wrestled with the Dark Lord."

"You deliberately went to confront Him!" Legolas looked up from stroking Pippin's hand with widened eyes. "Is that not a perilous thing to do? And with the little one too!"

"He is not so little," Aragorn smiled. "Many are often deceived by the innocent appearance of the periain, but you know better." Aragorn raised his eyebrows at Legolas, "You know how grown Pippin is in reality – more so than even he allows."

"Yes I know." Legolas agreed, "but I have grown to feel very protective towards them, especially this one."

"I was very surprised by just how strong Pippin's mental abilities have grown." Aragorn went back to patting the pale cheek, "were you aware of this? That he was powerful enough to deceive even Sauron – he has made Him believe that he carries the Ring."

"I felt it," Legolas agreed, "I couldn't help it, Pippin has made himself believe it too. I think it was the only way he could complete the lie – to make it real enough for Sauron to believe."

"Tricky little creatures – hobbits!" Gandalf was standing at the entrance to the tent. "Is he aware yet?"

"He stirs a little." Legolas lifted Pippin up from the ground and sat him in his lap, holding him close and rocking him slightly.

"You'll send him back to sleep that way." The wizard observed. Legolas took no notice and continued to hug Pippin, rocking him to and fro. Gandalf turned to Aragorn. "How fared you with the confrontation? Did you best Him?"

"I matched Him for certain." Aragorn reported. "He saw me and knew who I was and that I had the halfling with me. Pippin performed with great skill and cunning. He gave the complete performance that he carries the Ring and, will not claim it, but pass it to me once we join the battle at the Black Gate."

"That is very good," Gandalf agreed. "If only he can maintain the pretence until Frodo completes the Quest."

"Ah that I fear is a problem, he may have..." Aragorn looked to where Pippin was starting to groan and writhe in Legolas's arms.

"It's all right Pippin," Legolas soothed, "You've been asleep. Are you hurting anywhere?"

"My head!" Pippin put his hand up to his brow and then to his neck. "And my skin – It go burns me so too much."

Gandalf strode over to Legolas's side and moved Pippin's hand so he could see the marks. He gave a deep sigh, "Stigmata from the Ring. It is a heavy burden you have taken on Peregrin Took, but I fear it is yours now to bear."

"But it hurting I so much." Pippin gave a small whimper of pain, "Gandalf, do I got to do?"

"Yes, Pippin I'm afraid so." Quickly the wizard drew the hobbit's clothing back over the marks and buttoned his shirt at the neck. "Now go and get your dinner while there is some left – you wouldn't want to have to sleep hungry, now would you?" Legolas frowned at Gandalf over Pippin's view, but the wizard shook his head slightly. He knew he sounded brusque, but he also knew that sometimes it was the best way to be with Pippin.

"No," Pippin sighed and slid off Legolas's lap to stand up. He wobbled a little and the elf caught his arm to steady him, and then took his hand. "What there is at eat here Legolas?" Pippin asked unenthusiastically, "not get mushroom pie I not think, nor too much of dumplings or many crumperets?"

"No, there is stew and flatbread," Legolas led him by the hand to the door of the tent, "or porridge with no sugar and wine or milk."

"So no tea?" Pippin asked, and added, but not hopefully, "or ale?"

"Hmm – well I might find a little ale, if it will ease your pain," Legolas conceded. "Can't have you suffering."

"I can get some poppy if I much too hurt." Pippin whispered conspiratorially to his elven friend, "I just want get ale for me." 

"Pippin!" Aragorn had overheard the last exchange, even though it was not meant for his ears. "Please try not to fuddle your brain with that poison – I mean medicine."

"Well, if he is hurting…" Gandalf looked sidelong at the ranger; a look that was not lost on Pippin either. "A little should be beneficial rather than harmful."

Pippin narrowed his eyes and looked back at the wizard, pulling away from Legolas's hand. "Really Gandalf? Why you do go change your minds at I take poppy much?"

"You take a little if it makes you feel better my lad." Gandalf smiled at Pippin and bent down to his eye level. "I know you are hurting – your feet, your head and now your neck. But have some dinner first and then take some to help you sleep if you need it." The wizard gently finger combed Pippin's curls back from his face. "You've been very brave today and you have a hard day before you tomorrow and you need your rest. Go now with Legolas and find some dinner."

Pippin could not think of a retort to this helpful advice so he merely nodded and took the elf's hand again and went in search of food. Gandalf turned back to Aragorn. "I know he should be restricting the opium, but too much is at stake at this time. If what Legolas says is right; Pippin has made himself really believe he is the Ringbearer. It would be best to let him stay a little muddled rather than be totally coherent."

"There is another problem though I believe." Aragorn said, "I was able to hear the hobbits' talk through the palantír, he did not mean to find Frodo, but he did. Is there not a danger that he will now be able to talk to Frodo as he does to Merry?"

"Yes," Gandalf agreed, "That is a very real danger, although Pippin is quite good at controlling such things now."

"But Frodo did not understand why Pippin appeared to be claiming the Ring." Aragorn explained, touching his forehead as he recalled the memories. "Merry knows not to talk to Pippin, but I fear that Frodo may react badly if he hears Pippin claiming to be the Ringbearer again – and that may lead Sauron straight to Frodo – the true Ringbearer."

"Then all will be lost!" Gandalf exclaimed in horror. "It will be worse than if we had done nothing!"

TBC

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A/N

Good news first? I'm flying off tomorrow on two weeks of holiday. Going to Sorrento and will visit Pompeii, Capri and Rome.

Bad news next! I'll take my laptop computer with me and probably end up doing some writing of Recap while I'm away – oh dear!

Any way dear readers, thank you as always for your kind and wonderful reviews. I have also been loving the reaction to Baylor's story "Fate and the High King's Falcon and my little part in it, which I loved doing (well I loved it when I stopped doing it). It's like running or shopping, people say "but you like running/shopping etc." and I reply "no I like having run/shopped etc." It's not quite the same.

I now have to scamper off in a vain (possibly) attempt to get a chapter of Moria's Revenge completed before I leave tomorrow.

Heddwch

Llinos

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Now let's go and see who we have in the studio today:-

FyrDrakken: I ran across mention of this story in Baylor's "Fate and the High King's Falcon" -- and also the lay you wrote for that story. I know I'll have to go read "Moria's Revenge" in a day or two -- and I'm enjoying the idea of "Stolen," based on the teaser you posted.  
Llinos: It's all part of the ducking and diving to keep you guys coming back for more. Glad you thought it was a good lay! Does that mean the same everywhere? I'm never too sure. BTW while I was writing that, Galadriel kept tapping me on the shoulder and telling me her lay that needed writing, so I did it between Legolas's muttering. It's posted in my "Happy Birthday Professor" collection on ff.net.

roadkill-writer: I still think your Merry and Pippin have some growing up to do. This chapter nearly convinced me to change my mind, but I stick by it that the two hobbits are children-like in innocence and body, but they're adults mind-wise, and your portrayal of them is muddling that. Don't hate me for my nasty comments! I know Pip's speech is probably just what's on my wick  
Llinos: If it's just Pippin's speech that's bothering you, try not to think "childlike" try to think "foreigner". His speech has been scrambled by overlong mindspeak, which is a foreign language for the hobbits as it is basically Sindarin. The way Pippin speaks is my attempt to show this without actually writing gobbledygook. I think they are behaving perfectly in character for hobbits and Pippin's speech problems are an integral part of the plot so I really can't comment further – you just have to trust me. You may notice that when Frodo has a little foray into mindspeak his use is slightly different. Why? Well because he does actually speak and understand some Sindarin which Merry and Pip don't.

gilly : I've got an entire pack of gum and I can wait here all day.  
Llinos: Did you finish the gum yet Gilly? No updates for 2 weeks now at least – best buy another pack at least you should save on dentist's bills.

Pearl Took: I do so love this story and was beginning to fear it would just end  
Llinos: No, sadly it won't let me do that – in spite of me threatening to stop when reviews diminish – I'm captured by it too. Glad you liked the lay!

meatball : I feel kinda sad that Sam is getting left out of the head talking.  
Llinos: Oh but could he handle it?

ShireMaidens: Beautifully done and much quicker. tho any wait is well worth it, just so long as the ch's are good  
Llinos: Arrrggh what'll I do when they're bad? You will still review – please say you will! VBG

:) : I get so anxious I don't know what to do!  
Llinos: Well you do the right thing – you write good reviews and spur me on!

Tasha: Keep that suspense up!  
Llinos: Righto Pipsqueak! :-), just for you, I'll take a two week vacation!

Eldarin Queen: poor pip, so brave to face Saruon and Aragorn's very brave too. good job.  
Llinos: Oh yes Pip's brave – but we have to give poor Strider a break too.

august wynd: i go on one lousy vacation(actually it was the best vacation of my life) and you update 3 times!  
Llinos: Glad you enjoyed it (the vacation I mean) I'm giving you a break and going on one myself now. :-)!

Baylor: Also nice to see Bilbo with little Pip  
Llinos: Glad you liked that – I realised recently, I'd never had Bilbo in this story before, time he stopped lurking.  
Baylor: You know, I was going to write a glowing review of this chapter until I saw all the scape-goating going on! Oh, what the heck, it is my fault  
Llinos: Aha! I have it in writing! Now if I could only get Marigold to write that down somewhere – or even Kooks!

Natta: And yes, we should have it as a category, I dunno how though...  
Llinos: Well I hope you're working on it Natta :-)!

Lindelea: ...cheering (telepathically) ...can you hear me?  
Llinos: Yes!

Artemis-chan: . Was the image that powerful? And Frodo can mind-speak?? Is Pip that powerful, or Frodo that inclined? And I'm asking an awful lot of questions, aren't I?  
Llinos: Yes, Yes, Yes, maybe and pass.

Pickle Flavoured Gumball: Too bad it also means that Sauron is going to be all over his case now.  
Llinos: Well Pickle (may I call you Pickle?) It wouldn't be much fun if he wasn't – now would it?

NarsilC: Second only to my daughter's writing  
Llinos: What does she write? As you like her best (blatant favouritism) I should go and read her. No wait! She might poach all my readers! Is she a hobbit writer?

sam: It's you, Baylor and Marigold. I hope I spelled the names right. Kookaburra is on her way to becoming the 4th!  
Llinos: See and those are the three people that I have collaborated with – ah we both have good taste!

Kookaburra: Go Pip! He's such a trooper!  
Llinos: See and here's Kooks now! What are you doing here Kookaburra – get on with MR at once! You've no time to read – you need to be writing and drawing! (Kooks does some wonderful art folks!) Oh you can take time to review tho!

shirebound: Did anything happen to Frodo when Pippin wrenched the "ring" away and put it around his own neck?  
Llinos: Well I hope I kind of answered that in this chapter, although the situation has still got some way to go.

Kukume: I admit I was a little worried for Pip about another visit to the palantír and confrontation with Sauron  
Llinos: Well we're all a bit worried about that – but he does seem to manage awfully well for a hobbit.

aelfgifu: Gah! You are corrupting me into making my Merry sweet!! GAH!  
Llinos: Then my work here is done…

Till next time folks…   
Llinos


	19. Communication

Communication  
Recaptured – Chapter 111

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Can you do it Gimli?" Gandalf knew he did not have much time and he was hoping the dwarf would be able to accomplish what he needed before Pippin awoke.

"Of course," Gimli snorted in response, "You know dwarves Gandalf, why by Durin's beard – if we have an axe and a hot enough fire we can make anything."

"Well I can supply the fire," Gandalf pointed to the small forge made from rocks that he and the dwarf had constructed, "and a quantity of lead and gold." The wizard drew a large gold coin from a purse in the folds of his robes, together with some duller looking pennies. "This is pure gold," he held up the shiny coin, "and the coppers you'll find are in fact made of lead."

"Have you a gold chain to hang it on?" Gimli asked as he took some paraphernalia from his pack. "That would take longer to forge than just a heavy ring."

"No, I was hoping you might be able to provide something of that nature too." Gandalf suspected that what Gimli could not make quickly he might already have.

"Well, I can make a loan of a pretty piece." The dwarf reached inside his chain mail around his neck and produced, as if by magic, a delicate but strong looking shiny gold chain. "This was or is destined to be for my marriage gift."

"Indeed, Gimli," Gandalf took the proffered chain and draped it across his fingers. "Then I am grateful for your willingness to lend it. I hope its eventual recipient appreciates the valuable role it is about to play – whoever she or he may be." Gandalf added the last as the sexuality of dwarfs was something even he was not too sure about. The dwarves themselves knew and Aulë, but that was as far as it went.

"I'll be sure to tell them," the dwarf confirmed mysteriously.

"Now Gimli, the ring." The wizard smiled, "a fire for twenty minutes you say?"

"White hot please." The craftsman nodded.

Gandalf watched with interest as the skilful smith worked first the lead into a small ring and then coated it with the pure gold. Once it was cooled, the result was polished to a shiny and perfect looking ring, but heavier than might normally be expected from pure gold because of the lead inside. The wizard took the finished product and suspended it on the pretty gold chain and dangled it from his fingers. "Excellent my friend!" Gandalf exclaimed, "I doubt Pippin or any, except perhaps the Dark Lord Himself, would question its authenticity and even Sauron would need to have it in His grasp before it can be tested."

"And let us hope it does not come to that." Gimli added with a sideways look at Gandalf. The dwarf was inclined to consider the wizard rather expedient in his use of the hobbits at times, although he was sure it was only ever for the greater good or possibly he just had more faith in them than other folk did. Gimli thought back to his father's and uncle's tales of how Gandalf had commandeered Bilbo Baggins' services for the great Thorin Oakenshield's Quest to the Lonely Mountain all those years ago and how that had turned out for the best. 

Well in some ways it had, although ultimately it was the cause of their present problems. Nevertheless, Gimli was all at once recalling the exploits related to him by Oin and Gloin of how the seemingly naïve and unworldly hobbit had proved, not only the greatest burglar they had ever employed, but also resourceful and brave in extreme circumstances. Maybe it was he that underestimated young Pippin rather than Gandalf who pushed him too hard. 

But still Gimli was in fear for the little one. "I hope the young hobbit does not fall into the hands of the Dark Lord again, he has been through enough ills."

"We will all do the best that we can to ensure Peregrin's safety," Gandalf poured the ring and chain into his open palm and clenched it tightly, "Let us see now if we can be as stealthy as a hobbit. I don't want to waken Pippin when I put this on him, that's why I suggested he take a little opium."

Gimli shrugged and, muttering under his breath about scheming wizards followed Gandalf across the camp to where the hobbit lay curled up against Legolas in front of the fire. The wizard nodded towards Pippin so that the alert elf could see and motioned that his charge should not be disturbed. He then knelt beside the sleeping form and gently loosened the clothing around his neck. 

"What are you…" Legolas's eyes grew wide as he saw the wizard unclench his fist to reveal the fake ring and gold chain.

"Shhh!" Gandalf lifted a finger to his lips to silence the elf, "I don't want him to know I put this here," he whispered.

"But Gandalf!" Legolas hissed between clenched teeth, "he already thinks he is the Ringbearer, is this necessary?"

"Yes," Gandalf lightly touched the stigmata around Pippin's neck. "Now lift him up so that I can put it on. Gently now, do not rouse him."

Legolas reluctantly complied and sat the sleeping hobbit up in his lap, stroking his brow softly and breathing sweet words in his ear not to waken. "Hush Pippin, dear heart, it's all right, don't fret." Pippin had mumbled a little and put his hand to his neck, but as soon as the replica ring was placed there, he grasped it in his fist and fell back into a deep sleep.

"He took a good measure of poppy before he retired." Legolas told the wizard accusingly, "this was why you told him to I suppose, so that you could place this fake ring about his neck and compound his own belief."

"I did, Legolas," Gandalf drew a heavy but quiet sigh. Even though the replica was in place it still mattered if Pippin awoke. "This is a precarious deceit we are attempting and the more Pippin actually believes in it, the more effective it will be and the better chance we give Frodo." He lifted Pippin from Legolas's lap and laid him down in the blankets on the ground. "Now comes your task in this charade my friend. Somehow, while Pippin sleeps, you have to let Frodo know that his cousin is to be ignored if he starts to get into an argument about who is the Ringbearer.

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"Its name is Groll!"

"It has a name?" Smagnu frowned as he stepped back and looked up to take in the entire view of the mountain troll. "Does it answer to it?"

"No of course not, well perhaps if you shout at it a lot." The Uruk commander gave a length of chain attached to the troll's collar to Smagnu to hold. "You have to tug on this and poke it from behind, but watch it – it's a nasty fugging thing and it'll have you, given half the chance."

"Nice to know." Smagnu took the chain and gave a tentative tug on it. The Uruk was not used to handling things bigger and stronger than himself. "How do I control it then?"

"You use fire or a hot brand or a sharp spear but, most importantly, you feed it." The commander told him. "It eats mostly small animals like pigs or sheep, but we ain't got none of those, so you'll have to find it some rabbits or you could give it a couple of these stunted goblins."

"Right!" Smagnu made a quick mental note not to let any of his smaller soldiers get too near it. "What about the others?"

"Well they ate a day or two ago so they should last," the commander swept his arm around in the direction of the twenty or so mountain trolls standing patiently behind Groll. "They'll just follow this one, you keep it going and you'll be all right."

"And you don't have any food I can give it at all?" Smagnu did not like the idea of having keep this monster entertained while his troops went hunting on its behalf. There was not that much game to be had and he feared the troll might start helping itself if it was not given something quite soon. "Just the odd pig or summat?"

"You could feed it those two." The commander indicated Sniggin and Bloggin who were standing behind Grutfley peering around the fat orc's ample frame and looking up nervously at the troll. "They'd be a good mouthful for it."

"Don't fugging think so." Smagnu was not even going to pretend to this commander. "They're two of my best, them two. I'll get it summat else then."

"Well just be sure an' cook it first. It likes its meat well toasted it does." The commander stomped off and left Smagnu with the grumbling, growling troll in tow, with twenty more following behind it. 

"Grutfley," he called gently, not really wanting to startle the monstrous beast over much, "I think we might have a big problem."

************************************************************************************************************

"It's hopeless Gandalf," Legolas opened his eyes and looked up at the wizard, "I can't reach Frodo, I am not familiar enough with him and the longer he has been gone the more difficult it is for me."

"Hmm," Gandalf looked at Pippin, still curled up and sleeping peacefully. He had to get this accomplished before the hobbit woke; he just hoped that the others would be awake still. "What about Merry? Could he do it?"

"I tried to speak to him, but he is blocking me out." Legolas explained. "You told him he must not mindspeak, remember? You left word with King Théoden, and Merry tends to listen to what you tell him, unlike some hobbits I could mention." Legolas glanced down at the sleeping form, thinking it strange how much the two were alike and yet how different. "Merry has put up a barrier to try and stop even eavesdropping."

"There has to be a way to accomplish this!" Gandalf was frustrated. He had brought the deception so far it could not be allowed to fail at the last hurdle. When Pippin woke up he would believe himself to genuinely be the Ringbearer, but if Frodo should hear his thoughts he might well protest and Sauron would be diverted away from the bait and straight to the One Ring. "Is there no one else you can reach with your mind who could speak with Merry?"

"Éowyn!" Legolas exclaimed with excitement. "I have joined minds with her before at need, when the hobbits were injured and she had to tell them how to repair Pippin's broken foot, she can tell Merry what to do!"

"But wait Legolas, my friend," Aragorn appeared as if out of nowhere, walking up quietly behind Gandalf. "Do not ask Merry to speak with Frodo, for I fear Sauron will know the true Ringbearer if any should reach his mind now."

"But what if Pippin reaches him when he wakes?" Gandalf spun round on the ranger. "There will be greater harm if they each begin to claim possession of the Ring, Frodo will be revealed for certain."

"Not if Samwise tells him not to speak." Aragorn looked steadfastly at Legolas, "Do you think you can accomplish that?"

"You mean I have to reach Éowyn and tell her to ask Merry if he can mindspeak with Sam so that Sam can convince Frodo not to pay attention to anything he might hear Pippin say?"

"I think that is correct." Aragorn smiled. "Can you do it?"

"Why do things always have to get so complicated when there are hobbits involved?" Legolas sighed.

************************************************************************************************************

"Please Milady, do not worry about the perian," Faramir offered his arm to Éowyn as she stepped over a small ornamental bridge in the gardens of the Houses of Healing, "he is well cared for by the healers, especially as your uncle is near and Dysgwr takes a special interest in your comrade."

The two were taking a walk in the cool night air, although there were no stars, the path was lit here and there by scattered torches at Faramir's command. It was still early night but most in the Houses of Healing had taken their evening meal and gone to their rest. Faramir had taken the opportunity to spend some time with the fair lady of Rohan.

"I apologise my lord," Éowyn took the proffered arm and smiled sweetly at the young man. "I think I have taken Merry as my own responsibility for some time now. Ever since I first encountered him at Edoras, when he nearly died, I have felt a closeness to him and then afterwards when Legolas and I followed him to Mordor, and all that happened between us since then, it is as if we were held together by a special bond."

"I understand," Faramir agreed. "It is often the way with comrades and partners in fortune. I suspect you also have a similar bond with the elf?"

"Legolas?" Éowyn laughed her silver bell chime, "oh he is as sweet as the day is long."

"So you have a fondness for him?" Faramir asked glumly. "I did not know that mortals and elves could… could – even – wed?"

"My lord!" Éowyn pretended to be shocked, "what are you suggesting?"

"N-nothing…" Faramir's anxiety to know how Éowyn felt towards him had made him incautious. "I did not mean to imply anything. You are a lady of the Royal House of Rohan and I have been indelicate, I beg forgiveness – please take all that I say as meaning only admiration for you, for it is that which dictates my words."

"And fair words they are my lord." Éowyn could not help but be flattered by the handsome young man's attention. "But Legolas is… is…" she broke off speaking as the elf's voice suddenly sounded in her head.

_'Éowyn, Éowyn please hear my words.'_

_'Legolas for are you speak to me this strange way when I first think to you?'_

_'Yes Éowyn, hear me now, it is most important!'_

_'I do but…'_

"Milady what is it!" Faramir gazed anxiously into Éowyn's eyes, which all at once seemed glazed and distant. "Are you ill?"

"No," Éowyn turned her attention back to her immediate surroundings, "it is Legolas, he calls to me from afar."

"But how is that possible?" Faramir was convinced now that Éowyn's relationship with the elf was much deeper than she had allowed him to think, "Surely you need to be in immediate contact with him for that to happen."

"I do not know – but…" 

_'Éowyn hear me please…'_

"…but I have to listen to Legolas now."

_'Legolas I hear you, I am here.'_

_'Éowyn you must give a message to Meriadoc.'_

"Éowyn! Is there aught I can do?" Faramir saw that the lady's beautiful eyes were clouded over again and had that strange faraway look. "Tell me milady, please."

"My lord Faramir, your silence would be of the greatest assistance to me now." Éowyn did not mean to sound harsh but it was already difficult enough to discern what Legolas was saying to her.

"Very well then, I shall leave you to be alone with Prince Legolas." Faramir was feeling extremely downhearted by this news. First of all he had to vie with the halfling for the lady's attention and now she appeared more interested in conversation with her earlier companion who was not even there. It was irksome enough that his father had seen fit to hand the rule of the City to the strange elf lord and not to one of his own trusted men or even to Mithrandir, but now he was having to compete with him for favour of the lady on whom his heart was set.

Faramir made to leave, but Éowyn grasped his arm and he turned in surprise. She was gazing into the distance as if in a trance, but at the same time she appeared to be smiling at him – or was it for the elf? Whichever it was, in that moment his heart was lost and he waited beside her knowing that whatever happened now, even if she was in love with Legolas, he was hers to command for all time. He held his tongue and waited.

************************************************************************************************************

Frodo was asleep and Sam was glad. It had been some time since his master had taken proper rest and now, even at the foot of Mount Doom, at last he had lain down upon the ash-covered rocks and closed his eyes with sheer exhaustion and finally slept. It had seemed to Sam in the last few hours as if the Ring had grown lighter upon his master, which seemed odd to the hobbit as, by rights, It should have become a greater burden. But Samwise was not going to complain about this fact, although he did wonder why. Frodo had said some strange things concerning Mr Pippin especially that he had taken the Ring upon himself, but how could that be? It made no sense.

As Sam sat beside Frodo, lost in his thoughts, a small sound came to him as if out of nowhere.

_'sam, sam you go hear i?'_

"Wassat?" The hobbit said out loud in his still croaky and parched voice, looking frantically around him. "Is that you Stinker? Playing tricks on us?" But there was no sign of Gollum or anyone else.

_'sam, sam it i, it be merry, say i name then i know you go hear i'_

"No! It must be that wretched Ring, playing tricks on me again." Sam spoke out loud once more, afraid to answer the little voice in his head. He was certain it could be nothing but wickedness of some sort.

_'samwise gamgee! you go got hear i!'_ The tiny voice grew more frantic, obviously desperate to get a reaction from him.

"Be quiet you devils, you! I'm not listening." Sam put his hands over his ears, convinced that some evil within the Ring was calling to him, using a familiar hobbit voice to tempt him. But Merry was dead, Frodo had seemed so sure of that. If he was calling to him it must be from beyond the grave and that could not be right.

_'sam, sam it go be all right – it onlely i – it merry, please say things at i'_

And why did Merry sound so strange, Sam wondered. He was always a most genteel spoken hobbit. Now he sounded like he could not remember his grammar or anything. _'go out head i – not talk at i!'_

Sam hit his head on the side as if to bang the odd words out of his ears. He had not meant to respond but somehow he had and, what was odd, was that he sounded as strange as the little voice pretending to be Mr Merry, a very strange thing. Perhaps it was Merry then and he was not dead after all. That at least would be some good news to cheer Mr Frodo with but it seemed impossible that he, Samwise Gamgee, should be able to do this special mind talking like the other hobbits.

_'sam you go listering at i, please, please! it most porterant you got hear i! i know you get voice i – say good thing back at i! sam!'_

************************************************************************************************************

"It's no good Éowyn," Merry lay back on the bed and rubbed his eyes, "I know he can hear me, but he won't talk to me. He probably thinks I'm a sham – something to do with the Ring that's pretending to be me."

"Are you certain you reached him?" Éowyn asked. She had felt a little guilty at waking Merry from a deep sleep, but it was essential according to what Legolas had told her and she was also extremely relieved that Dysgwr had not been on duty, as he would almost certainly have not allowed her to wake his little charge.

"Yes, I'm certain it's Sam," Merry recalled the conversation he had just almost had, "he can hear me and I him, but he is afraid to talk to me as he doesn't quite believe it is me."

"Is there something private you can tell him?" Faramir suggested, "perhaps a recollection only you and he would know. That might convince him that you are genuine."

"I think so." Merry remembered how Gandalf had persuaded him to return to his body when he was wandering and lost by showing him little vignettes of his own life. Perhaps he could do the same now with Sam. "I remember a time when…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sam – Samwise Gamgee! There you are!" Meriadoc Brandybuck wiped the perspiration off his brow. It was a hot day and, even though a short ride from Hobbiton to Bywater, Merry had got very overheated. "I thought I'd catch up with you before now, you must have gone fast to get here so quickly."

"Oh Master Merry," Sam looked up with surprise to see the other hobbit, "I got a ride on Belbit Scoggin's cart and saved the walk. Er… um… what brings you to the Green Dragon, if I might ask?"

"Cousin Bilbo – he sent me after you to say could you look at some Autumn bulbs for him as he's thinking of planting daffs up on top of the Hill for next Spring and he forgot to ask you what with all the other bits and pieces you had to get. He's sent the money to buy some if they're good enough."

"Oh I see, right then," Sam looked at the coins held out in Merry's hand, there were six pennies there. Mr Baggins certainly never stinted when it came to buying the best. "I've got everything else, I'll get those when I finished this. Are you stopping for a drink now you're here?" Sam glanced rather guiltily at the mug in his own hand and the pipe in his other.

"Well, yes, some lunch," Merry agreed. "Cousin Bilbo said I'd find you here having yours. He said he gave you the money to buy a little something in the pub."

"Ah yes," Sam followed Merry's gaze down to his tankard of porter. "I spent it on something a little more fortifying than bread and cheese. Err… um… Master Merry, please don't mention to Mr Baggins what I bought in here, only my Gaffer says I'm not to drink strong ale or to smoke till I gets to my tweens, so I only does it in Bywater, I'd be in proper bother if he caught me no mistake."

"Why Sam you're older than me and I'm nearly a tweenager – I'll be twenty in three birthdays' time and I drink ale sometimes, although I never did officially smoke a pipe yet," Merry winked conspiratorially, "Pappa says not until I'm twenty-five."

"I know, Master Merry," Sam nodded towards his drink, "But this here's strong porter and it'll make you drunk as a lord if you has too much I'm told. I only has the one – but my da'd kill me if'n he knew."

"Your secret's safe with me Sam," Merry grinned and walked over to the bar. Like most teenage hobbits, he had of course had the odd illicit pipeful of weed and a couple of strong ales before now, but he too would not want his father to find out, as he knew it would be a whipping and a lecture, the latter more dreaded than the former.

"What's it to be?" The barmaid flashed him her second best smile. He was young but had time to grow. "Mug of ale?"

"Just a dandelion and burdock please," Merry reached in his pocket for coins for the drink, "and a plate of bread and cheese."

She took down the stone bottle and popped the cork off the fizzy drink. "Do you want a straw with this?" She asked a little scathingly.

"No – in a glass please." Merry was not to be outscathed, "and could I have pickled onions with the cheese, please."

"Of course," The barmaid smiled again now, the lad was young – but not that young. "Take a seat and the lad will bring you your food."

As Merry made his way back to Sam he suddenly heard a name that stopped him in his tracks. "Why Gaffer Gamgee! What brings you to the pub at this time of day?" The voice, Will Cotton by the sound of it, continued. "Don't usually see you till nightfall, what's up?" Merry looked up to see Sam's father walking in through the door of the Green Dragon and Sam's jaw almost hitting the ground in horror. The Ivy Bush was the Gaffer's usual pub as Bywater was a good step for him.

"Nothing too bad," The Gaffer answered, moving over towards the bar. "It just seems as Mr Bilbo Baggins has got hisself all turned about today. He sent young Master Merry here, over to tell my Sam to pick out some Spring bulbs, but then I reminded him, I already got some and they're ready to put in."

"So he's got all of you running around today has old mad Baggins?" Malo Bluebush was a little more direct than Wilcome Cotton. 

"He's a fine gentlehobbit is Mr Bilbo, besides, he said I might enjoy the walk and an ale in the Green Dragon, especially as my own son was stopping here for his noon-piece." The Gaffer was always respectful of his employer. "He's the most considerate master I ever lifted spade for. Now then Sam," He spied his son, who stood frozen to the spot, his drink of porter incriminatingly before him on the table and his smoking pipe thrust awkwardly behind his back. "Did you take your sup yet?"

Merry was alert to the problem at once, "Hullo there Mr Gamgee, I was just fetching Sam's drink. Here you are Sam, my friend." He thrust the bottle of dandelion and burdock into the bewildered hobbit's fist, putting the glass down on the table, and with a deft movement took the pipe from his friend's other hand. "Just enjoying a quick pipe and drink myself." Merry picked up Sam's tankard of porter from the table and took a healthy swig of the black liquid. He managed not to choke as the strong ale hit the back of his throat but gulped it down without even pulling a sour face.

"Thass a strong drop of stuff you got there Master Merry," the gaffer commented. "I shouldn't like to see my Sam drinking like that – not till he's a bit more growned. Does your father know you drink porter?"

"Oh yes!" Merry lied, pretty certain that Saradoc was unlikely to meet with Sam's father in the near future and, if he did, then Merry would deal with that when it happened. "We drink it all the time at Brandy Hall."

"And smoking too!" The gaffer nodded towards the still burning pipe, "I told Sam he's got to be in his tweens at least afore he gets a pipe."

"Ah well," Merry took a quick puff of the strong weed, managing somehow not to cough, "I've been smoking since I was just in my middle teens, it's an old Brandybuck tradition. You have to smoke your first pipe on your sixteenth birthday."

"Hmm I never heard of that afore." The gaffer looked at Merry suspiciously. But took a seat on the bench by Sam. Now that his father had his back to him, Sam looked at Merry over the gaffer's head and rolled his eyes in thanks and relief. But there was not much time for gratitude or reflection. Almost immediately a young hobbit came over with Merry's lunch.

"Bread and cheese to go with the dandelion and burdock?" The pot lad shouted it out loud. "Who's this for?" 

"I guess that'll be yours son." The gaffer waved towards the bottle in Sam's hand. "You seems to be the only one drinking dandelion and burdock."

"Oh yes." Sam bit his lip and looked worriedly at Merry, "I suppose it must be."

The pot lad placed the food in front of Sam and waited expectantly, "That'll be tuppence please young sir."

Merry quickly reached in his pocket, realising that Sam had probably spent all the money Bilbo had provided on his porter and pipeweed. "Here Sam, I'll get that, err, Cousin Bilbo gave me the money." He gave the bar hobbit some coins, "there's thruppunce, a farthing for yourself." Merry smiled at the young hobbit and nodded over at the gaffer so that the older hobbit could not see, "err and three farthings for an ale for Mr Gamgee."

"Right you are sir," the young bar hobbit saluted and headed off to the bar again.

Merry sat down with Sam and his father and took another swig of the strong porter, the taste was starting to grow on him. "Right good drop of stuff this!" Merry was also getting into the part of a drinking, smoking lad as well. He took another draw on the pipe, "Good weed too."

Sam said nothing but munched quietly on the bread and cheese, his eyes cast firmly down on the food, too embarrassed to look at poor Merry and not daring to enter the conversation with his father for fear of giving them both away.

"Well, I don't say no harm against my betters," The gaffer declared looking at Merry somewhat askance, "but I alus did say you Brandybuck folk were different than ordinary hobbits. What with messing in boats and such like and living on the river the way you do, but I never realised Brandybucks grew up so fast. My father would've tanned my backside if he'd caught me smoking and drinking at your age. Are you sure you're allowed?"

"Oh yes," Merry confirmed, swallowing more of the porter and wishing Sam had not bought such a large mugful or that he'd at least drunk more of it before his gaffer had arrived. "We're encouraged to mature quickly on the other side of the Brandywine, it's the responsibility of being on the outskirts of the Shire." This much at least was true, Merry's father Saradoc and grandfather, Rorimac had always impressed upon him that as the future Master of Buckland much would be expected of him – although it had not actually included smoking and drinking ale.

"Well here's to your health young Master Merry," The gaffer lifted his newly delivered mug of ale. "as soon as we've downed these you must let me treat you to another and you'll enjoy a fill of your pipe no doubt – I've got some fine Old Toby, no real pipeman could refuse that."

Sam's eyes grew wide with horror as he glanced up at Merry, but the young hobbit was feeling more and more confident with each gulp of porter he took and by the time it was finished, he was actually quite keen for another mug.

The gaffer bought a round of drinks, including a large mug of porter for Merry and a ginger beer for Sam. As the porter was downed, Merry got more and more used to the taste and was also starting to get very loud in his conversation. "I don't know about Hobbiton or Bywater," he stated loudly, "but in Buckland we do things right! You can't have a proper party without some singing on the table!"

"Merry," Sam whispered nervously, "don't you think p'raps we should be getting along back to Hobbiton? Your pony'll be getting restless outside all this time."

"It's all right Samwise," The gaffer patted his son's arm. He liked how his youngster always was so responsible and thought about such things. Young Mr Meriadoc was turning into something of a rapscallion for sure, he was glad his Sam was better behaved. "I seen that young Tomos has put her in the stables, she'll be all right. Though I'm thinking Master Merry might be better walking back to Hobbiton."

"C'mon, gaffer." Merry was starting to slur as well as get loud, "gie us a tune!"

"You give us one young Brandybuck." Malo Bluebush shouted. He was not overly fond of foreigners but this upstart from Buckland was starting to amuse him. "How about a song from over the Brandywine?"

"S'right…" Merry started to climb up on the table and Will Cotton put another mug of porter in his hand, just for encouragement. "Thisshh ish a good 'un." The only verse that came to Merry's befuddled mind was a version of the hobbit drinking song that they only ever sang in Brandy Hall and usually late at night without any guests. He took another generous swig and started:-

"To be the best hobbit you can be  
Work very hard in the dirt and muck  
Or a better way, I guarantee  
Is to just be born a Brandybuck!"

There was a certain amount of laughter at this. Encouraged, Merry continued in spite of Sam's worried look.

"First you must carefully choose your sire  
Leaving nothing just to luck  
Be born in the best part of the Shire  
That way you'll be a Brandybuck!"

The laughter became mixed with a few catcalls of derision and Sam tugged anxiously at Merry's trouser leg. "Mr Merry!" He hissed anxiously, "I don't think they're quite ready for your song round here. The gaffer said nothing but puffed stoically on his pipe. Merry swigged again and battled on:-

"Try not to be a Baggins or a Chubb,  
A Bracegirdle, Proudfoot or a Gluck,  
A Burrows, Boffin, Bolger or Grubb,  
Or else you can't be a Brandybuck!"

Merry didn't wait before plunging straight into the next verse, although he had to sing a bit louder as there was quite a lot of other noise now as well.

Can you swim and ride in boats?  
Are you brave and filled with pluck?  
Be the lad on which every lass dotes?  
Then you must be a Brandybuck!

Sam was almost beside himself now, partly with fear for Merry's safety but mostly with anguish at the state young Master Brandybuck had got into just on his account. "Mr Merry, please come down. Don't sing no more, I don't think they like that kind of song much in Bywater."

"S'right Sam," Merry looked like he was in danger of coming down from the table very quickly indeed at any moment. He was swaying dangerously and Sam climbed up next to him and held on to his arms to steady him.

"Please, Merry," he whispered again, "let me take you back to Bag End, you've had too much."

"No – I gossh ter goss.. ter **_got_** ter finshhhish the shong – **_song_**!" When Brandybuck's made up their minds they could be very determined and this one was half Took, which did not help.

If I came from Tookland I'd be a Took  
From Pincup I'd be a Puddleduck  
But all of these names I forsook  
For I'd rather be a Brandybuck!

Merry finally slid off the table as he managed to step on a pickled onion that had rolled off the plate. Sam tried to catch him but he too missed his footing and slipped. They both ended up in a heap on the floor amid raucous laughter from the general audience who were delighted to see the drunken, audacious upstart come to an ignominious end.

"Come on Merry, can you stand?" Sam pulled the dazed hobbit up to his feet and Merry leaned heavily on his helper.

"I think sho Shham!" Although Merry could enunciate when he was singing, his speech was badly slurred. "Where isshh we goin'?"

"Outside I think." Sam hauled Merry's arm over his shoulder and half dragged him out of the Green Dragon and into the late afternoon sunshine."

"Ouschh! Who'sh put the lampsh on sho bright!" Merry squinted at the sunlight after the dim interior of the pub. "Owwssh my head!" He clapped his hands to his fair curls to try and still the spinning in his brain. "Ish all going round and round – hic! husch! hic! Shham!"

"You're not too used to that strong porter Master Merry." Sam tried to pull Meriadoc a little more upright as he was slumping quite heavily on his shoulder now. "Try and take a few deep breaths, that should help. Especially with the hiccups."

Merry did as told and took several deep breaths, but unfortunately it had the opposite effect and he suddenly doubled over and was very sick, mostly over Sam. "Shorry Shham, ohhh I don't feel very well… I'm eversho shorry…"

"Here Sam!" The hobbit looked round at the sound of his father's voice. Hamfast had followed them out into the road. "Young Master Brandybuck's forgotten his pipe. I expect he'll be wanting that."

Merry heard the gaffer's words and was immediately sick once more. "Shorry Shham…" he whispered this time. Then out loud, "gimmee my pipe then – I'll shmoke it later…"

"I daresay you'll see he gets put to bed safe and sound." Hamfast shook his head as he took in the dishevelled teenager. "Now I expect you'll be seeing why I'll not let you drink strong ale or smoke until you're older."

"Er yessir, Da!" Sam said quickly. He kept his head turned towards Merry as he was certain the lie had turned his face bright scarlet, "Come on Merry, I'll get you on your pony, I don't think you'll be too good on walking."

Sam was never quite sure how he managed it, but somehow he got Merry to lie across the patient pony and led it gently through back lanes away from prying eyes back to Bag End. Once there, he was miraculously able to sneak Merry into the back bedroom without even Bilbo seeing. He brought a bowl of water and removed the vomit-covered clothes from both of them; just the jacket in Sam's case, but Merry's coat, shirt and britches would need cleaning. He then washed Meriadoc carefully and tucked him up with a large bowl beside him in case of further emergencies.

"Thankshh Shham!" Merry was still having trouble with his esses, "Eversho shorry I wash shick on yoush."

"Mr Merry, after what you did for me today, I wouldn't mind if you came all the way from Buckland to throw up on me every time you felt ill." Sam was all gratitude, "My gaffer would've killed me if he'd caught me with porter and pipeweed; I shan't forget this – ever!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_'you not go forgetted it sam?_' Merry had sent the memory in one fast flash. Only the two of them knew the whole truth of what had happened that day and Merry was certain that Sam would remember the incident, even if he forgot his own name. Indeed the inhabitants of Bywater had also remembered it for many years and it had been a long time before Meriadoc Brandybuck had climbed on a table in the Green Dragon to sing again.

_'sam you know it be i now – you go say name i – say merry!'_

The realisation slowly coalesced in Sam's brain. It was Mr Merry! It had to be him – no one else knew about the porter incident, although over the years various hobbits had queried Merry's total aversion to the brew, but no one knew why he hated it so much. So it had to be true – he Samwise Gamgee was hearing proper voices in his head, just like the elves could. 

The question was could he do it back? Would he be able to talk back? Mr Merry and Mr Pippin were proper educated hobbits, same as Mr Frodo, who even spoke some elvish. Sam was not sure if it were right and proper for him to take on such an accomplishment. How was it done? Perhaps if he just closed his eyes and let the thoughts flow out of him. What must he do? Say Mr Merry's name, well that would be a start.

_'mer – rry mistrer merr - rry?'_

TBC

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Author's Notes

I took my trusty laptop to Italy and in between wandering around the ancient ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum and swimming in the bagnio of Regina Giovanna at Capo di Sorrento and riding the chair lift in Capri oh and the coup des gras, strolling around the Coliseum in Rome on my birthday listening to Paul McCartney singing! He was giving a free concert that night and had just popped in to do a sound check and the visitors to the Coliseum at that time got an extra free show! Wow – talk about a moment to remember.

I also climbed the steps of the Basilica to the Dome, saw the Sistine Chapel and threw a coin in the Trevi Fountain. Anyway, in between all these doings I managed to spend a little time on Merry and Pippin and so there was a new chapter on my computer when I got home – so my time in Italy wasn't totally wasted!

Thanks for the reviews – you do know that I keep writing because people still say they enjoy the story. Oddly enough, the whole time I was away I kept getting the next story, Stolen, playing in my head. I wish it would stop – but it is very insistent.

On to the chat:-

gilly: I CAN DO IT ::stares at empty packet of gum  
Llinos: You know Gilly we may have to put you in rehab with Pip and his poppy!

meatball: I sure hope Frodo keeps his nose out of Pip's business and doesn't get himself in trouble!  
Llinos: Poor old Frodo – he's so out of the loop.

Brenda (Hapuh3@yahoo.com): first of all, please ignore the email I sent. (I already read ch. 16, so I only missed 2 chapters. )  
Llinos: I was on my hols anyway – but did you get it now?  
Brenda (Hapuh3@yahoo.com): And yeah, you gave us another childhood story.  
Llinos: Whoops and yet another one this time – just love doing those flashbacks.

Artemis-chan: Do you have some kind of thing for torturing poor Pippin?  
Llinos: Doesn't everyone?

NarsilC: Yes, my daughter writes Frodo/Sam stories. She is a true Frodo fan to the max! I think you would enjoy her stories very much. She wrote "What if?" on this site. It would be wonderful for her to have your thoughts of her own writing.  
Llinos: I've been away (did I mention that I'd been away?) so no time to check out these stories yet – but will try soon.

august wynd: hope you enjoy your vacation as much as i enjoyed mine!  
Llinos: Thanks – I hope so too – that is, I hope I did.

aelfgifu: I hope you are taking both of them on vacation with you.  
Llinos: I only took them in spirit and that was bad enough!

Pearl Took: Don't forget to squish Pippin with a troll and you can just insert bits for High King's Falcon!  
Llinos: Now where would be the fun in that! Oh and Pompeii was great – I recommend it heartily!

sam (camilliatook@hotmail.com): One question though, is Sam going to be able to mind speak? It would be unfair to leave him out:(  
Llinos: I quite agree! Oh and NEVER apologise for long rambling reviews – they are my lifeblood!

QTPie: I'm the daughter Yes, I write hobbits stuff, mostly Frodo and Sam though. I intend to write Merry and Pippin in the future.   
Llinos: Well we'll look forward to it then – can't have too much Merry and Pippin!

Natta: I thought about mailing the staff, but they wouldn't even bother to answer me probably.  
Llinos: No you're right – they really don't!

Lindelea: Hope your laptop whispers to you and haunts you and nags at you until you write more chapters and post them right away when you get back. Um. was that a curse, or a blessing?  
Llinos: Oh! So it was you!

Roadkill-writer: I'm sorry that I yet again griped about your hobbits. Apologise to them for me.  
Pippin: _what she go say at we?_  
Merry: _not go like at we talk it be not good… think we not be growded up hobbts…_  
Pippin: _mer what you go say now? it too hard at i not undredstranding you…_'  
Merry: _that be what she go say – not can be undredstranding we – we go talk too mixled up… like we babes!_  
Pippin: _sophie we not be babes! we just not talk good at elfishh… see when frodo go talk he do it bettrer than we… it cause he do talk at elfishh and we not do – see?_  
Llinos: Um I hope you could follow that explanation Sophie, they would insist on doing it themselves – sorry.

Baylor: Have a wonderful holiday and come back with many more chapter ideas!  
Llinos: Or even an actual chapter! The holiday was wonderful though. (Did I mention I'd been on holiday? Oh yes I did.)

Eldarin Queen: you must do some writing whilst you are away  
Llinos: I took your advice :-).

VercisIsolde: I did like how Merry saw Éowyn and thought she was Elbereth, but if she was that beautiful, how would she ever pass as a man?  
Llinos: Remember Merry has never actually seen Elbereth, only heard her name as the most beautiful, nay the queen, of the elven folk. It was merely his reaction to actually seeing Éowyn. Beauty is, after all, in the eye of the beholder.

shirebound: Have a great holiday, Llinos, and come back to us safely!  
Llinos: Thank you Janet. I did.


	20. What's For 2nd Breakfast?

What's For 2nd Breakfast?

Recaptured - Chapter 112

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Pippin was surprised to wake up and find Legolas curled around him, his eyes shut and looking serenely fast asleep. The hobbit knew the elf slept very little and almost never longer than he did. He cheerfully poked his friend several times in the shoulder. "Go waken up lazily-bones! We got go find we breakerfast."

Legolas groaned a little and reluctantly opened one eye. "Pippin, did I ever waken you with anything but a kiss?"

Pippin seriously considered the question for a moment. "Not go rememberer that Legolas. You shaken, shaken we sometime."

"That is possible, I admit," Legolas sat up and rubbed at his sore shoulder, "But please don't poke me, sweet hobbit. I thought the battle had already started and you were a spear wielding orc! As dear as you are to me, you are still very sharp and pointy in places."

Pippin giggled, "Hobbits not be pointy, Legolas, exceptering on they ears maybe."

"Well you're sharp, no mistake!" Gandalf laughed, making both of them turn to see him standing with a benevolent smile beneath his whiskers. "You're one of the sharpest Tooks I ever have known."

"Well we go feel more dull now when we don't get no breakerfast." Pippin yawned and scratched his curls. "Did you bring we some Gandalf?"

"No you impudent hobbit!" The wizard laughed again. "But I saw a good big pot of porridge over yonder and if you're quick you might get some syrup as well. Oh and they've brewed some tea."

Pippin was on his feet and dragging Legolas by the hand to join him. "Please Legolas, we got get some syrup for we and get we some tea, please come quickerly."

"You go Pippin," Gandalf put his hand on the elf's shoulder. "I need to speak to Legolas first."

"All right, we go and we go save at some prorrig at you Legolas." Pippin let go of his friend's hand and hurried off, muttering to himself. "If we get brownded sugrar on Legolas prorrig and we get syrup in we prorrig, then we get littlel taste at both kinds…"

"I do believe his speech is getting worse." Gandalf shook his head as he watched Pippin anxiously limping towards the mess area. "Although it does not seem to have dulled his appetite."

"I suppose you want to know if the task was finally completed?" Legolas too watched Pippin scurrying, as fast as his damaged feet would allow him, in search of sustenance.

"I hardly dare to ask you my dear elf," Gandalf sighed. "I know you were awake most of the night, you must be tired."

"Fortunately I do not need so much repose, as you are aware." Legolas gave half a smile, "Although more than five minutes would have been pleasant, for I am weary and it was a fraught night."

"For all of us," Gandalf was watching anxiously to make sure Pippin was well out of earshot. "Although Peregrin seems well rested, except did you notice something odd about his speech?"

"His what?" Legolas spluttered the water he had been drinking from his bottle. "Yes of course, he talks utter gibberish most of the time. You and I are among the few that can actually understand him easily, but that is hardly news."

"No, no." Gandalf realised what he had said was a little obtuse. "He's referring to himself as 'we'. At first I thought he meant you and he, but he was still saying 'we' when it should have been 'I'."

"What do you think it means?" Legolas had noticed, but not really thought it important.

"Well I could be wrong, but…" Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully, pausing for a moment. "…Pippin is actually the closest thing that the hobbits have to royalty." The wizard smiled a little at Legolas's look of horror. "He is the son of their titular leader and heir to the Thainship of the whole Shire."

Legolas rolled his eyes upwards to the skies at this news, "May the Valar protect them." He whispered with a smile.

"But nevertheless," Gandalf continued, "I do not think, even with his Took impudence, he would use the "royal we" in his speech."

"So what do you think he means?" Legolas did not really want to hear the answer, he was sure he already knew. "Is it… the…?"

"Yes," Gandalf nodded slowly, "I'm sure of it. He thinks the Ring is with him now and he is personifying It and including It in his references to himself, hence the 'we'."

"Well, I suppose that will make it easier for us to have conversations in our minds about Pippin being the Ringbearer." Legolas was not really sure this was a benefit for Pippin though.

"Which brings me back to my question." Gandalf realised that he and Legolas had wandered off the reason for their conversation. "Did you manage it?"

"Manage it?" Legolas also had forgotten the purpose of their conference.

"Does Frodo know that he must not speak to Pippin?"

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"Steady now, just pull it gently, don't jerk it!" Grutfley was issuing directions to Smagnu as he manoeuvred the leading chain on the mountain troll, trying to get the great beast to go the way they wanted. "Y'know," he said at length, sinking down onto a convenient rock, "it'd be easier to just leave it here and bring our troops over, instead of trying to take it with us."

"I think you're right," Smagnu sat down next to his lieutenant, "it won't fugging move anyway. We're gonna need to get some grub into it if'n it's gonna move when the battle starts, 'specially if them other score is gonna follow it. D'yer suppose it's their leader?"

"Seems to be, but I dunno how it tells 'em owt. It don't talk so much as grunt."

"Cap'n Smag," Sniggin was puffing heavily as he and Bloggin hefted a large cast iron cooking pot between them. "I think we got summat as'll do."

"Well it's certainly big enough to cook summink in, but what you gonna catch to put in it?" Smagnu lifted the pot out of the hands of the little orcs and set it down before the troll. "I think this beast might get pretty angry if we don't give it some fodder soon."

"We ain't got nuffin big," Sniggin affirmed, "but we got all the others gonna go round and pinch and scrounge every bit of food what we can. Then we thinks we'll put it all in the big pot an' cook it up for it – make it nice an' tasty Bloggin can, he's passing good at that, Cap'n!"

Even as the small orc explained their plan, his brother was busily making a large fire, dragging bundles of faggots over to where he and several other small orcs had arranged a hearth of rocks and placing the kindling ready to start a good blaze.

"Here then Corporal Sniggin," Smagnu had promoted the two little orcs to corporals, as they seemed to have a certain amount of initiative and were able to rally the other soldiers with gentle persuasion. "I'll put the pot on the fire ready, how long d'yer think it will take to get it filled?"

"I've sent out all the troop to scrounge, barter and beg," Sniggin did not say 'steal', although the word was heavily implied. "Bloggin's already got a lot of good stuff, herbs and spices and such like."

Bloggin, intent on his work as usual began filling the pot with water, aided by several other orcs. They fetched several water skins and emptied some rather scummy looking brown liquid into the pot. Bloggin then began to add herbs and seasoning as the fire took hold underneath and the water started to heat up.

"I don't like the look of it now," Grutfley glanced up anxiously at the troll, which was shifting from one great foot to the other and grunting somewhere deep in its throat. The other trolls began to move too. Most of them had been sitting down and now at least four had climbed to their feet and were swaying and turning their heads from side to side as if they were looking for something.

The little orcs scurried about industriously, bringing all kinds of bits and pieces to Corporal Bloggin, who evaluated each offering with care, sometimes chopping it, or perhaps just dropping it into the pot whole and occasionally rejecting the scrap as too foul even for a troll. The pot was soon bubbling away with bits of roots, nettles, shreds of meat that did not bear close examination for their origin, together with insects, grubs, leaves, a little tree bark and the occasional earthworm.

A great prize was a large rat, which Bloggin carefully skinned, "I don't go puttin' no furred-up flesh in my stews," he claimed indignantly, "no matter 'n it is fer a troll." With the loving hand of one who takes pride in culinary excellence, Bloggin seasoned the concoction with salt and even managed to produce a little white pepper and a corner of nutmeg, which he ground between two stones and added a pinch at a time.

"How's it coming Bloggin?" Smagnu was getting decidedly edgy. The troll had started to vocalise and either it was making deep growling noises or its stomach was. "Need to get summat in it soon I think."

"Nearly ready, Cap'n." The little orc was even bold enough to taste the masterpiece, slurping down a good ladleful, "Umm yes dee–licious!" He decided.

The troll seemed to catch the scent of the food as Bloggin scooped it up and he started to lumber towards the cooking pot, with Smagnu hanging on to the lead, quite unable to stop it. "Fud" fud!" Groll the troll started to grumble, "get fud!" This seemed to excite the other trolls a bit and they too began to mumble, but fortunately they mostly stayed where they were.

"Get fud!" Groll was pretty single minded it appeared and had decided he was going to eat something no matter what. Looking down at the stew and the little orcs around it he let out a deep growling purr, saliva drooling from his great mouth onto the little creatures below. 

"Watch out!" Grutfley shouted a warning to the little ones, but it was a little too slow. Before any of them could scramble out of the way, the troll reached out and scooped Sniggin up in his great paw.

"Fud!" Groll decided with obvious satisfaction and lifted Sniggin up to his great maw to bite off his head.

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_'sam! it i… it merry… you go hear i now…'_

_'merry mistrer! it do be you real? ain't not fib? frodo mistrer do think you go be deaded…'_

_'think i go dead sam – but i go be wrong…'_

_'not knowed how i do talk at you – ain't got do fore i'_

_'you go good sam… i got say things at you… then you got say same, same at Frodo… you go be undredstrandring? go know what i sayed?'_

_'think do…'_

_'good… listern sam… say at frodo… not take noterice at pippin… he may go say things at frodo… frodo not listern… not answering he… not… not!'_

_'what he do say merry mistrer?'_

_'say he got… some thing… not got say in we heads sam… not got say what is… it Precious! you undredstrand i?'_

_'pippin mistrer say he got preshus? why he do?'_

_'sam not say… but think he go do… say at frodo… not hear he… not talk back at he… not and not!'_

_'frodo mistrer not to talk at pippin mistrer?'_

_'is right sam… you go tell – it most importrant! i got go sam… we not talk long time in we heads – it bad thing… tell frodo and say love at he and at you…'_

_'merry mistrer? merry mistrer…'_ and suddenly Sam realised he was talking out loud and Frodo was shaking him by the shoulder. "Mister Merry?"

"Sam! Sam – what is it?" Frodo looked at his servant's face with panic. "I thought you were dying you looked so strange. Please don't die Sam, it would be too much to bear." The two hobbits had been resting under a small overhang of rock at the foot of the steep side of Mount Doom when Frodo had awoken to find Sam with glazed eyes and totally unresponsive to anything said.

"I'm sorry Mister Frodo," Sam rubbed his eyes and accepted the tiny dribble of water that Frodo offered him from their practically empty bottle. "No, you have your share." He pushed the bottle back at his master and insisted that he take a couple of drops.

"What were you doing Sam?" Frodo used the moisture in his mouth to lick his parched lips a little so that he could at least speak. "I thought you were in a trance or having a fit or something."

"It was Mr Merry." Sam finally managed a smile of pleasure as the realisation hit him. "He's not dead Mr Frodo, he's really not." 

"How do you know?" Frodo suddenly realised that he must have looked the same way to Sam when he himself had heard Pippin in his head – that faraway feeling as if held in a trance, "Have you been talking in your head?"

"Well it was Mr Merry, he talked to me." Sam almost felt a little guilty, as if he were prying where he was not wanted. Just as he had eavesdropped on Frodo and Gandalf all that time ago when he had first heard about the wretched Ring. "He just came into my head and started saying things."

"But Sam, how can you be sure it was Merry?" Frodo asked gently. "It could have been any spirit or evil being trying to deceive you."

"No Mr Frodo, I'm sure." Sam was certain that even an evil spirit could not have prised that story out either him or Merry. "He told me a memory that only he and I knew about; it could only have been Mr Merry, I promise you."

"Oh that is wonderful news," Frodo clasped Sam's hand in his and sighed deeply with relief that his cousin was all right. "I hope that Pippin knows too Sam, do you think he does?"

"I think so, it was about Mr Pippin that Mr Merry was talking to me." Sam remembered Merry's anxiousness that he should deliver his message. "He said that Mr Pippin might try to tell you something."

"Something?" Frodo looked puzzled for a moment. He had been very weary; they both had for the past day or two and had made little progress, sleeping more than they had been walking. But since hearing Pippin in his head, Frodo had felt the Ring grow just a tiny bit less oppressive. It was an odd thing, but it was true. Even the marks around his neck, where the Ring's chain had cut into him, had lessened. "It was about the Ring – wasn't it?"

Sam flinched a little as Frodo's tone sharpened. His master hated to talk about the Ring, especially to him. It was as if the mere mention of It meant he might try to take It from his master. "I'm not too sure," Sam admitted. Merry had never actually mentioned It by name. "But I think so. He talked about 'precious' and I think we all know what that means."

"So what did Merry say?" Frodo had dropped Sam's hand and was now holding the Ring protectively to his bosom, "and why did he not talk to me? Did he tell you?"

"He didn't Mr Frodo," Sam admitted, "and that's a puzzler no mistake. But Mr Merry said he couldn't stay too long, he was more worried about you not talking to Mr Pippin though."

"I wonder why he wouldn't want me to." Frodo had been finding it hard to concentrate or to rationalise about anything as they drew nearer to Mount Doom. Increasingly he had relied on Sam to make the decisions, he hoped his dear Sam could work this out as well. "Can you make any sense of it at all Sam?"

"Well, Mr Frodo," Sam drew a deep breath and ran his grubby hand through his hair causing a little cloud of ash and dust, gathered from the volcano, to puff into the foul gaseous air. "Seems to me that we may not be the only folk, along of Mr Merry and Mr Pippin and the elves of course, as can talk inside our heads. Perhaps Mr Merry is scared other, not so friendly, types might be listening in too. So he couldn't say that for fear they might have listened, if you follow what I mean."

"I think so," Frodo frowned a little. His head hurt and he wanted to close his eyes, but he needed to understand what was happening. "He didn't talk to me because I might have thought about the Ring, and if the Dark Lord himself was… oh Sam!" Frodo broke off as the implication sank in.

"I know Mr Frodo," Sam took his master's hand again and stroked it tenderly. "that's why Mr Merry was talking to me. That and to tell me to warn you not to talk to Mr Pippin – no matter what he says."

"Which might be something about the Ring?" Frodo said. It was at last starting to make sense in his tired mind. "What do you suppose Pippin is up to?"

"Hard to say Mr Frodo," Sam had not had a chance to ask Merry why Pippin might talk to Frodo. "But I reckon that the best you can do is go by Mr Merry's advice and take no notice of whatever he says – just pretend like you can't hear him." Sam looked quizzically at Frodo with his head on one side. "Can you do that Mr Frodo?"

"I-I think so Sam." Frodo said, not really sure himself. He knew how he got when anyone challenged him for the Ring, especially over Its ownership. "Maybe you'll hear Pip as well next time."

"Mebbe," Sam agreed, "but I think I'll ignore him too. I don't know what he's up to, but whatever it is – I think we'd best just trust him to get on with it on his own."

"But what if the message from Merry is wrong?" Frodo felt a sudden surge of panic. "Perhaps I'm meant to talk to Pip and take no notice of Merry."

"The way I see it Mr Frodo," Sam reasoned. "We've got no way to know for sure either way. But what if we never had heard either of them talking? Well then everything would all just be the same as it is now and if we hear them we should pretend we don't. That way it doesn't matter which of them is right."

"Oh Sam!" Frodo lifted the gardener's grubby hand to his cheek and closed his eyes against the dear touch. "I knew I could rely on you to work it out."

"Oh but Mr Frodo," Sam remembered another important part of the message. "One thing Mr Merry told me that you can take notice of."

Frodo noticed a tiny smile creep onto the little gardener's face. "What Sam? Something funny?"

"No, not funny," Sam let the smile grow a little bigger, "Mr Merry said to say he loves you."

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"We got some prorrig at you Legolas – it got brownded sugrar on top it." Pippin proffered the bowl proudly. He had actually managed to persuade the cook to give him two helpings of porridge already, both with syrup, arguing that hobbits were supposed to have two breakfasts, so to obtain the third helping on the grounds it was for his friend, had been a feat of great magnitude.

"Thank you dear heart," Legolas took the bowl with a smile and then noticed the slopped oatmeal on the side of the dish. "Pippin! Have you been in here?" The elf poked at it with his spoon suspiciously.

"Not didn't!" Pippin tried to sound outraged, but it was difficult when your words were all over the place. "We just spillded it on way go here."

There it was again, Legolas noticed it more anxiously this time. Pippin was speaking as if he were two hobbits. He knew Gandalf's theory, that it was the Ring, but he was worried about Pippin's state of mind. The elf set the bowl down on the ground and took Pippin's hand in his, bending down to his eye level. "Pip my little love, I know your words get muddled but are you all right? You keep talking as if Merry were here when you say 'we'. Are you missing him so terribly?"

"Not – well am." Pippin agreed, "but it not that mistrake we making." The hobbit reached inside his shirt and found his hand resting on the ring that was hung there. "We got tell you big, scaring secret Legolas. We not sure if we should go tell Gandalf or Strider."

"What is it Pippin, you can tell me." Legolas guessed that it was about the ring that was hung around the hobbit's neck, but he wondered what Pippin had made of it.

"It Ring!" Pippin whispered in awe, "It go find we in the night. Legolas, we think it magnic! It go be round we neck and now we go be most scared Legolas, not know if we get on Shadowfax more and go at battle, not now we real got the Ring."

Legolas felt Pippin's hand shaking as he held it. He put his arm around the hobbit and drew him into the safety of his arms to try and still the trembling. Pippin's eyes were filled with terror as he told the elf his fears. "Pippin don't be afraid, I'll be with you all the time, I promsis."

Pippin almost smiled at Legolas's use of his and Merry's word, but he was too frightened to be distracted. "When we go waked up, we thinked it was still dreaming and it not real. How could the Ring go be on neck and not no one putted It there?" Pippin drew a deep sob tinged breath. "We thinked eat we breakerfast and It go way. But Legolas It not goed and we not knowed what we do? Do we got carry It in battle and we give to Strider or do we got go big mountain Doom cracks and throw It down?"

Legolas stroked Pippin's hair, not too sure what to advise him. All he could give him right now was a little physical comfort, he knew the truth would ruin all of Gandalf's plotting. "Shh Pippin, it will be all right. I expect Gandalf will tell you what to do."

"That's what we scareded of." Pippin gave a little sob now as a tear finally broke through and ran down his cheek. "Oh Legolas we trying be brave, but we not as brave as Frodo. We not think we can managed be real Ringbearer!"

Everything inside the elf screamed at him to tell the poor little hobbit the real story, that the ring was a fake and Gandalf had put it there. "Don't cry little Pippin, please don't be frightened, I won't let anyone harm you." But he knew he could say nothing, to ease the pain. Not only that, but he would have to wipe the deception from his own mind before he linked with Pippin again, already it was an effort not to let his dear friend hear his thoughts on the matter.

Legolas clenched his teeth, trying to quell the anger that was surging through his whole being toward Gandalf. He knew in his heart that the wizard was acting for the good of all, but he found it difficult to reconcile that with the trembling, frightened little mite in his arms. He let the thought drift though his head that when it came to torturing hobbits, wizards could certainly give orcs a lesson or two.

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TBC

A/Notes: Marigold is still chuckling about the opening scene in this chapter, mainly because she inspired it, but didn't even remember the incident. When we were staying in a Scottish Youth Hostel, I wanted to wake her up and started to poke her with my finger in the shoulder. She complained bitterly and said it wasn't nice to poke at people and I should find a better way to wake her up.

Ha! I shall remind her of this when next she gets her stickessses out to poke at me! Hopefully though it will not be necessary as I'm trying not to get distracted by shiny things and concentrate on Recaptured a bit more, especially if that's what people want.

On with the chat! Start in opposite order today:

Shirebound: I know, I know. Every reviewer is going to point out this same phrase  
Llinos: Ah but you did it first Janet!

Pansy Chubb: What a trooper, taking Merry and Pippin with you on vacation  
Llinos: Oh they enjoyed it – well they said they did, although I heard some mumblings about how hot it was and couldn't they use the swimming pool.

Eldarin Queen: Drunk Merry is very funny.  
Llinos:  Actually he could have been in a worse state if not for Marigold!

Kookaburra: I think you should compile them into an anthology of sorts.   
Llinos: What! In my copious free time?

Natta: have yet to see something about Sam and Pippin  
Llinos: Now there's a thought!

sam (camilliatook@hotmail.com): Why does he have to be the "Ring-bearer"?  
Llinos: Because mean ol' Gandalf says so.

Artemis-chan: So is it a latent thing in all Hobbits, or just ours?  
Llinos: Who knows? What do you think?

Artemis-chan: ANd how does Eowyn fit into all of this?  
Llinos: Well she and Legolas can mindspeak because he linked with her at need when they were rescuing the hobbits from Mordor. If you remember when Pippin and Legolas were searching for Merry after his battle with the Witch-king, they found Éowyn instead, so she's fairly attuned to it by now.

Aillanna-Took: Does this mean, since he's kinda splitting the weight of the Ring with Frodo (as well as wearing a fake), Pip will eventually get to sail into the West with the others?  
Llinos: What! And leave Merry behind?

BrallaQueen: great characterisation of Gimli, if a little less grouchy than I would have expected.  
Llinos: Glad you liked Gimli – I don't give him enough airtime really. I think he's not too grouchy with the hobbits – he takes a very protective stance towards them in my mind.

Pearl Took: So glad the holiday didn't keep you from writing!  
Llinos: The only thing that will do that is if you guys stop reviewing :-)!

Lindelea: Checking daily for an update finally paid off.  
Llinos: Keep checking – I'm gonna go as fast as I can now.

QTPie: Sam can join the telepathic party now!  
Llinos: Yes – he's on the party line! Do you have any idea how hard it is not to let it sound like a telephone? The times I nearly write "who go be calling?"

Tasha: Hope his getting sick wasn't inspired by recent overindulgence on your own (or did you have a little *too* much fun on your vacation, hmm?  
Llinos: No chance – I don't drink, smoke or eat meat – hobbits are the only vice I have left!

  
See ya all soon.  
Cheers  
Llinos


	21. Conflict Before The Storm

Recaptured - Chapter 113

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Conflict Before The Storm

"My dear Dysgwr, I promise you Meriadoc did get some sleep – why he is sleeping right now." Faramir looked anxiously between the disgruntled healer and the Lady Éowyn, hoping to avoid an unfortunate diplomatic incident. They were standing in the passageway outside Merry's room having been ejected by Merry's carer just after the hobbit had finished talking to Sam and had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

"I understand your concerns good sir," Éowyn smiled sweetly, although she was feeling far from sweet after being told by Dysgwr in no uncertain terms that she and Lord Faramir were not to disturb his patient again without his leave. "But I assure you that I would not have woken Merry if the whole outcome of the present assault against Mordor had not depended upon his immediate assistance."

"I see," the healer looked more than a little sceptical, "and what exactly did you require a gravely wounded halfling to achieve in the middle of the night from his sick bed?"

"Exactly what he did!" Éowyn retorted, her voice was still honey sweet, but her eyes were beginning to flash with that spark that Faramir found delightful and daunting at the same time. "I know that the halfling looks like a small child, but surely by now Master Dysgwr you must understand that Merry has talents and strengths beyond his appearance, even above his own people's standards."

"Nevertheless, he is very badly wounded and needs his rest." Dysgwr was not to be usurped in his own domain. "My Lord Faramir I understand that you are the ruler of this City now, but in this House I have complete charge of those under my care – only the Warden may gainsay my authority over them and I must insist that Meriadoc is not to be disturbed again without my permission."

"Then you would see the City fall in ruins and the entire war be lost in order to maintain your authority?" Éowyn would not have pursued the argument but for the fear the need could arise again. "Merry did not complain at the disturbance, he saw the importance of what was needed."

"The perian does not always know what is best for him." Dysgwr retorted, he was getting quite red in the face now. "He frets, he does not eat and now you awaken him when he should be sleeping, how will he recover if he does not have a firm regime?"

"Without his help last night the whole of Middle Earth might have been lost!" Éowyn could not understand the man's short-sightedness, "I love Merry dearly and would not see harm come to him, but this was vital for the deliverance of us all!"

Éowyn and Dysgwr stood glaring at each other and Faramir noticed that, in spite of Éowyn's left arm still being bandaged and supported and her right only recently restored to feeling, her dainty fists were clenched as she barely controlled her temper. "Master Dysgwr these are not ordinary times," Faramir attempted to bring peace between the two. "Please see that the Lady Éowyn and I only acted in the common good and that I am sure Meriadoc was not irrevocably harmed."

"My Lord Faramir," Dysgwr's voice started to increase in volume, although he was still respectful to the City's hereditary Steward, " I am a Healer. I just want my patients to receive the best care possible – I am worried about the perian and Milady Éowyn is…"

"…is as concerned for his well-being as any of us." Faramir interrupted the man, his own voice getting a little louder. Faramir seldom, if ever, lost his temper, but the sight of Éowyn at odds with the well-meaning healer was enough to make him become very heated. Something about Éowyn brought all his protective instincts to the fore, although she did not seem to be particularly in need of his assistance.

"Master Dysgwr, I know you are upset," Éowyn said, trying to calm her rising temper, "but I cannot undertake to promise never to disturb Merry again without your leave. It might be very…"

"Éowyn? Please, what's the matter?" A small voice emanated from the chamber, followed by a small figure clad in a long white nightshirt and clinging to the doorframe for support.

"Meriadoc!" Dysgwr wheeled around on the hobbit in exasperation. "What are you doing out of bed? Get back at once."

"I… I heard loud voices," Merry flinched a little, shivering with the cold. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that need worry you, Merry," Éowyn was at his side and took his hand to gently lead him back inside the bedchamber. "Come on now, back to sleep."

As Dysgwr helped Merry back into the too big bed, with both Éowyn and Faramir hovering anxiously, he suddenly gulped a little sound of shock. "Oh my Pip! What is it?"

"What's the matter Merry?" Éowyn tucked the covers cosily around him, but Merry was trembling and sniffing back tears that threatened to fall. "Is something amiss with Pippin? Is he hurting?"

"Oh terribly, milady," Merry hugged his arms around himself, wishing he could enfold Pippin in them right now. "He's very frightened – something terrible has happened to him."

"Did he speak with you Merry?" Éowyn asked caressing his brow gently, "I know that you must not talk with him – are you finding that too difficult?"

"No but…" Merry shivered again and looked up at Éowyn, his eyes filled with fear and dread, "I just felt his mind, it's hard to explain exactly, but just as I get the same wounds and hurts, when he's very upset or afraid, it's as if I'm feeling it too."

"What is he afraid of?" Faramir questioned quietly. "Is he in pain?"

"He is, the burns on his feet and other things, but mostly this!" Merry pulled apart the top of his nightshirt and the other three could see the stigmata of a chain mark burnt into Merry's neck.

"Are those marks what they appear to be?" Éowyn's voice was filled with horrified awe at the sight.

"How did you do that to yourself?" Dysgwr frowned at his patient, "Merry you haven't been trying to smoke your pipe I hope."

"Yes Éowyn," Merry did not even bother to deny the pipe. He had actually had one or two puffs, courtesy of King Théoden, but he hadn't burnt himself with it. "Pip has got… no I don't understand it… it can't be!"

"Merry, you must stop fretting yourself over your friend this way." Dysgwr was mostly concerned with his immediate patients and their well-being. "I'm sure that Mithrandir and the Lord Aragorn will take excellent care of him."

"No! No you don't understand!" Merry seemed in terrible anguish now, It's… it's, he doesn't know what to do. He told Legolas, but he said Pippin must ask Gandalf… but…but, oh Éowyn this is terrible!"

"Merry what is it?" Faramir was completely mystified about whatever was in the hobbit's mind that he found so disturbing. "Can you explain what's wrong with Pippin?"

"Pippin thinks he is the Ringbearer, he is certain of it!" Merry hardly understood how Pippin thought that. His cousin was inclined to rash acts it was true and sometimes got a little confused over things, but he was not easily deceived, having a suspicious nature and a nose for the truth. "He thinks that Gandalf and Aragorn have been seduced by the Ring and that they want to take It from him, so he believes he must now take It himself to Mount Doom in order to complete the Quest."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Drop! Droppit!" As Smagnu screamed at the troll he thrust all his weight onto the chain, pulling it so hard that Groll actually sat down hard on his behind and looked round to see what was tugging him.

Grutfley, who a few weeks before would have thoughtlessly fed any small orc to the troll if told to, grabbed a flaming brand from Bloggin's cooking fire and jammed it into the troll's arm. The great creature grunted in annoyance and swatted at Grutfley, dropping Sniggin in the process. The little orc scrambled on all fours to hide behind Smagnu and peeped out to see the troll holding its arm and complaining with a deep rumbling moan. It let go and started to grope around trying to grab hold of another little orc "Fud! fud!" was all it seemed able to say. The little orcs scattered in panic – all but Bloggin who stood resolutely behind his stew-filled cauldron.

"Quick!" Smagnu shouted to Bloggin. "Give it the fugging fud!" Bloggin, with an agility that surprised both Smagnu and Grutfley, leapt up on to the troll's leg, landing with both feet. In his hand was a ladle full of troll stew and he sloshed it accurately straight into the great drooling gob.

"Fud – you eat fud!" Bloggin shouted at Groll and then nimbly leapt down again and scooped up another ladleful and held it up towards the monster.

"Fud!" Groll reached out and picked up Bloggin in his great fist. Smagnu tugged on the chain once more and Grutfley advanced with the flaming brand. "Fud – gud!" The troll exclaimed looking at Bloggin and then, quite delicately for such a great beast, it took the ladle from Bloggin's hand and slurped the stew. "Guud fuud!" it drooled. and put the ladle in Bloggin's hand again and set the orc back down by the stew. Once more Bloggin ladled up stew and jumped up on the troll's leg and fed the concoction to the hungry Groll.

Sniggin overcame his fear and crept out from behind the now smiling Smagnu to help his brother and they took turns hand feeding the troll, filling the ladle and clambering on it's knee to pour more stew down its gullet.

"Guud fuud! Groll get gud fud!" Groll repeated every so often, slathering his chops together with every mouthful.

"Listen to that," Smagnu elbowed Grutfley who was watching in awe, the brand forgotten and smouldering in his hand. "It knows its name!"

Sniggin proffered the ladle once more and Groll opened his great mouth wide, waiting for the delivery, but the bold little orc withheld it now. "Want it? Want it, Groll?" he asked cheekily.

"Guud fuud gis, gis Groll! Gud fud!"

"No," said Sniggin, holding the ladle in front of Groll's mouth but not pouring. "It gud **_stu_**! say 'gud **_stu'_**! Groll."

Groll rumbled a little then took hold of Sniggin around his waist and started to take the ladle from his hand, but then put it's great head on one side and muttered, "gud **_stu_**, gis Groll gud **_stu_**!"

"There you are," Sniggin reached out and poured the ladle into Groll's maw again, "now put me down – **_down_**! And I'll get you more – **_more_**!"

Groll seemed to understand this and put the little orc down so he could fetch more stew.

"Well done, Bloggin," Grutfley patted the orc on the shoulder, "You and Sniggin done right well, and now Sniggin's even taught it some manners."

"D'yer think you can make more of that stew?" Smagnu asked letting the chain dangle from his hand now that Groll seemed relatively happy. "I think we might need it."

"I can Cap'n," Bloggin nodded. "Our dada used to say he could make stew out o' nuffin and he teached it to me, too."

"You had a dada?" Grutfley asked with interest. Orcs usually did not know much about their own origins generally being as old as dirt and enslaved to one master or other for as long as memory served. "Yewoch!" The brand had burnt down in Grutfley's hand and he dropped it with a yell of pain. "Fugging thing!"

"Fug, fug!" growled Groll. He had seen Grutfley apparently brandish the hot stick towards Bloggin and then swear and shout angrily. He also vaguely remembered from a few minutes earlier that the fat orc had burnt him with the hot stick. "Fug, fug." The troll swung out and clouted Grutfley off his feet, knocking him several yards to land on top of Smagnu who dropped the chain and both orcs ended up on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

Sniggin and Bloggin immediately rushed to the aid of their commanders, along with several other of the bolder little orcs. Groll started stalking after Grutfley with a murderous look on his face. Grutfley was still struggling to get to his feet as Bloggin turned to confront Groll. "No! leave!" he shouted at the troll. "Get fud – get **_stu_**!" and he scampered off to the cooking pot, which was still half full and refilled the ladle, holding it out enticingly to the appreciative diner.

Groll did not spend long making up his mind and, forgetting Grutfley, lumbered after Bloggin again and resumed his interrupted dinner.

"Fug me – that was close!" Grutfley accepted Sniggin's arm to struggle up to his feet once more. Smagnu was already up and had regained a hold on Groll's chain. "I guess Bloggin and you got a better way of handling it than me and Smag. It certainly likes its grub!"

"Phwar!" Smagnu waved his hand in front of his face. "Bit too much I'd say. I know you put some junk in that stew Bloggin, but I didn't think it was that bad. Just try not to stand down wind of it when it lets go, keep it away from the fire and, whatever you do, don't smoke."

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"Come on Peregrin, up you go." Gandalf lifted Pippin up onto Shadowfax and then frowned. He had felt the hobbit stiffen at his touch, not in the guilty way that young Peregrin Took might have reacted to having his ear seized after being caught out at some mischief, but almost as if he found the wizard's touch distasteful. In all of the years the wizard had known this lad, never could he recall Pippin reacting in such a way to him. 

"Are you all right Pippin?" He asked with concern in his voice. Admittedly he knew he had given the hobbit a terrible burden to carry, but the youngster usually responded with enthusiasm and determination or, more often than not these days, resolute bravery. Never before had Gandalf encountered aloofness in this particular hobbit.

"Go good Gandalf, thanker you." Pippin had tried to get the words right. It was difficult to be on your dignity when you sounded like a four-year old. 

"Did you have enough breakfast?" Gandalf hoped the subject of food might make Pippin a little more forthcoming. "Did you get some syrup?"

"Did." Pippin said and then added, because he really could not help expanding on the subject, "two times."

"That was nice. Look, I've got you some fresh bread and a bit of cheese in case you're hungry before we stop." Gandalf had remembered Pippin's complaint the previous day about getting too hungry, just as he and the other hobbits had during their journey from Rivendell. Hobbits, he knew from long experience, needed to eat more frequently than big people, as their little bodies could store less energy.

Pippin looked rather disdainfully at the proffered linen wrapped bread and cheese and then turned his head forward, not meeting the wizard's eyes. "No thanker you. We go wait at all othrers stopping too and get we dinner."

Now Gandalf was very worried. Pippin refusing good food boded very ill. Had he guessed Gandalf's deception and was now sulking with him? "Take it anyway," the wizard was not going to let Pippin get the better of him on this and placed the package firmly in Pippin's hand. "You know you will get hungry before everyone else and we don't want that."

"No." Pippin decided to be monosyllabic instead, at least that way he would not sound ridiculous. He kept hold of the food but refused to look at Gandalf. Inside his heart was crying, for he was sure Gandalf was lost once more. He had been so happy when the wizard had returned after falling to the Balrog in Moria and now it seemed Gandalf was lost once more but this time forever – to the Ring. That must be why It had come to him – Gandalf had decided that he or Aragorn was strong enough to wield It against the Dark Lord. But Pippin knew this was not true – Gandalf himself had said, 'no one can wield It but Sauron', so the Ring had at last seduced his mentor and guide. Pippin felt very alone.

The wizard was silent for a moment, thinking through the situation. He was not sure exactly how he had expected Pippin to react to finding the 'Ring' around his neck, probably frightened and garrulous, asking him what to do. He had not expected this resolute silence, especially from Peregrin Took. He needed to talk to the lad and get Pippin talking back.

"I'm feeling weary this morning," he said in a conversational way, "I'll ride with you to fetch Windfola, if you don't mind." Without waiting to find out if Pip did mind, Gandalf leapt upon Shadowfax and sat behind the silent hobbit. "What's wrong Pippin?" He asked trying not to sound too concerned, "you're very taciturn this morning."

"What it is tassy turn?" Pippin mumbled grudgingly, his curiosity getting the better of his determination to keep as guardedly silent as possible.

"Quiet." The wizard replied tersely, urging Shadowfax forward.

"You asked we question!" Pippin retorted crossly, "why we got go be quiet?"

"No, that's what I meant," Gandalf laughed now, in spite of the tenseness between them, "I said you're very quiet this morning."

"No you not did Gandalf," Pippin was indignant, "You sayed we tassy something."

"Oh dear," the wizard sighed deeply, "Pippin taciturn means quiet – I wanted to know why you're not talking very much today – what's wrong?"

"We thinks you got knows Gandalf," Pippin was not used to such careful attention from the wizard, that had to mean something, should he confront him? Did Gandalf know he had the Ring?

The wizard put his arm around Pippin's chest and pulled him in close to whisper in his ear, "You know now that you are the true Ringbearer, Peregrin." Gandalf hated himself for what he was doing to his dear little Pippin, the baby of the four young hobbits that had set out on this great Quest and probably the most vulnerable, but this was no time for sentiment; he had to think of the greater good and he steeled his resolve.

It was no whim that had made him convince Elrond to allow Merry and Pippin to accompany Frodo, he had known from the start that the best way to confuse and confound the enemy was with deception and stealth and using the other hobbits as decoys had always been a possibility in his plans, to say nothing of having other hobbits to take the Ring should anything happen to Frodo. But, Istari though he was, Gandalf had never envisioned it being so painful.

"You can't go have It Gandalf." Pippin's voice was firm and resolute and surprisingly calm, making the wizard raise his eyebrows in surprise. "We not gone give It at you."

"I don't wish It Pippin," Gandalf whispered in the pointed ear again, "I never did. I would not take It from Frodo, even when he offered It to me freely and I certainly will not take It from you."

"Then what we got go do with It?" Pippin turned his head awkwardly to look up at Gandalf. "Give we It at Strider?"

"You'll know when the time comes." Gandalf said enigmatically. "Eru will guide you, little one."

"Eru?" Pippin echoed in surprise, "We thought that your job Gandalf."

"Ah here's Legolas and Gimli with the horses." Gandalf leapt down from Shadowfax, thanking Eru for the timely interruption of reaching their destination. "Do you remember what you have to do, Pippin?"

"Got talk in we heads at Legolas." Pippin recited as if bored with the repetition. "Not got talk at Frodo or Merry or Éow or more people not saying here – only Legolas and got talk we got the Ring now. Got say we give It to Strider. But Gandalf…"

"No that's all you need to worry about for now Pippin." Gandalf mounted Windfola as Legolas with Gimli seated behind on Arod fell into place alongside Shadowfax and the three great steeds set off to the vanguard to begin the day's journey.

The four finally reached the head of the great army; Gandalf feeling relieved to have escaped further questioning from Pippin but still feeling a great burden of guilt and unease; Legolas, seething with impotent anger at the duplicity of the wizard and the callous treatment of his hobbit; Pippin, confused, frightened but firmly resolute that they were giving the Ring to no one but the fiery mountain and Gimli, wondering why everyone looked so cross.

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N: Quick chapter – no? Well I also had a lot of real life to do this week as half my bedroom, together with a big bit of loft, is becoming a bathroom. I had to clear everything, including three computers and my Merry, Pippin, Smagnu and Sam (I didn't get Frodo for my birthday) house and all their furniture. Jeesh are they ever pissed off.

Nevertheless, I am quite proud that I managed to do this chapter as well and plan to do another as quick as poss. Even Marigold doesn't know what's hit her. – This is the new, improved Llinos at your service. So if you wanna join in the chat or ask questions or say something rude to me – get your comments in quickly!

Heddwch

Llinos

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Comments and Counter Comments (or as sensible people call it 'chat')

Dear Reader: More Éowyn and Faramir!  
Llinos: Your wish is my command :-)

Jay of Lasgalen: Another chapter so soon! Great, it's like the old days!  
Llinos: I hope to carry on this way too – if I can and if everyone wants.

Lindelea: I keep imagining what kind of Thain Pippin became...  
Llinos: Or will become, depending on whose version you read

Artemis-chan: if all or most Hobbits had the ability to mind-speak. Do YOU have something planned in regards to that?  
Llinos: Hey steady on – I'm not Tolkien :-)!

sam (camilliatook@hotmail.com): This is my favourite angst story, followed by Moria's Revenge, another great story.  
Llinos: I must be all right at angst then.

 :) : A chapter for Moria's Revenge and Recaptured all in the same week!  
Llinos: And now another Recap chapter – I really must get a life!

:) : Okay, since Pippin has part of the "weight" and all with the Ring will the fake one have to be destroyed as well?  
Llinos: Well Pippin will probably think It does.

aelfgifu: and I am feeling a teeny weeny bit guilty at what I plan to put Pip through in RATM now.  
Llinos: aha! Then don't do it, Emma!

QTPie: I miss Merry. Will there be more of him coming up?  
Llinos: I know – so do I but he's kinda busy being ill and isn't supposed to talk to Pip, but then he doing a good job of playing Cupid, even if he doesn't realise it.

Eldarin Queen: thats not nice what gandalf had to do to the poor thing.  
Llinos: Still, I suppose you have to feel sorry for Gandalf too. Do you yet? No – oh well.

roadkill-writer: They are practically cute, in a kinda ugly, orcish way. Give them a kiss from me,  
Llinos: Ewch! No, especially after what Bloggin's been eating!

Kookaburra: And I just  
Llinos: Aaarrrrgghhh! Someone just kidnapped or killed Kookaburra in the middle of her review!

meatball: NO! NO PIPPIN! It's fake!! The Ring is fake!  
Llinos: Hush meatball – don't tell him – you'll spoil the story.


	22. Mind Games

Recaptured – Chapter 114

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Mind Games

_'legolas?'_

_'Pippin?'_

_'we go make good battlreing now…_

_'It would seem that we should.'_

_'we go beat at Sauron…'_

_'We shall win the battle at the Black Gate Pippin?'_

_'what we sayed…'_

_'It is then assured?'_

_'is for certerain…'_

_'Why is that so?'_

_'we got Ring…'_

_'How can that be, halfling?'_

_'we got through magnic…'_

_'Magic?'_

_'what we sayed…'_

_'What will that do for you?'_

_'we not big… but we go make we armery strongrer than He armery...'_

_'But you are only a hobbit – a small halfling, how can you wield the Dark Lord's Ring?'_

_'not we go wielded It legolas, we carryering It…'_

_'What will you do with the Ring then?'_

_'we gone go give It to king… we takering It for the new king, legolas!'_

_'Will he wield It, Pippin? Will Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir, wield the Ring of Sauron?'_

_'will…'_

_'Then Sauron will fall when the Ring is on the hand of the heir of Isildur.'_

_'strider go make Dark Lord fall, can't not go win he… we go carryering the Ring at he…'_

_'Pippin, is the Ring safe?'_

_'legolas? we tirded and more tirded at this… no one be listering at we…'_

"Pippin!" Legolas spoke to him out loud now. Arod was trotting just to the side of Shadowfax and Gimli was humming quietly to himself behind the elf. Aragorn and Gandalf were further away on the other side and deep in conversation. "You are not supposed to say things like that, it makes our plan too obvious."

"It too obvious anyway round." Pippin sulked. "We not even go be Dark Lord and we not foolded by we."

_'Hush little one – you must not say that so that everyone can hear!' _Even as the words filtered from his mind to Pippin's, Legolas realised that what Pippin said was true. He also realised, with some horror, that Gandalf had been right. In order to perpetrate this deception, Pippin had to believe he was the Ringbearer with all his heart. But what kind of danger was that putting his hobbit in?__

_'legolas it not make no differings… we not gone give It at strider anery way…'_

_'What?' _Legolas was desperately trying to fathom what was going on in Pippin's mind. He could sense the fear that the hobbit felt from finding what he believed to be the Ring about his neck and his growing distrust of Gandalf. He was also aware of the immense sadness that Pippin felt at, what seemed to him, the loss of someone he loved as a grandsire.__

_'legolas… gandalf and strider they… they… want take It… but that not go be good do it?'_

_'No, I am sure they will do what is right.'_

_'how can they? they not knowing that Ring go get they – say things at they – be same, same as boromir.'_

_'Oh Pippin! I think you have to trust them, what else can you do?'_

_'throw It way! and we gone go do too!'_

***********************************************************************************************************

"Sam I can hear him!" Frodo grasped his servant's arm tightly, "It's Pippin talking… to … to… I think he's talking to Legolas."

_'legolas?'_

_'Pippin?'_

"Don't pay no heed, Mr Frodo!" Sam put his hand over the one clutching his arm, trying to calm and reassure his master. "It will be all right, just pretend you can't hear."

"But it's constant," Frodo put both his hands over his ears as if to shut the insistent little voice out. "You don't know what it's like Sam."

"I do Mr Frodo." Sam met the petrified stare, steadfastly, "I know exactly what it's like. I can hear him too – and Mr Legolas."

"Then you hear what he is saying?" Frodo's look was growing slightly demented. Sam had been in fear of his master's sanity for the last day or two, but now, here on the very last stage of their journey, he seemed to be losing his control and reason.

"But Mr Merry warned us about this." Sam reasoned, "just try to think about something else, don't answer him whatever you do, keep your mind fixed on… on… um the Shire!"

"Oh Sam, I cannot see or remember what it looks like even," Frodo dug his fingers a little more tightly into Sam's arm. "The Ring is all I see, all I can think of now. I can't… can't even imagine how to do this!"

Sam furrowed his brow, thinking as hard and as fast as his weary brain would allow. The little voice was faint in his head, but persistent. He could hear the more eloquent elven replies to the rather more inarticulate hobbit conversation.

_'we go make good battlreing now…_

_'It would seem that we should.'_

_'we go beat at Sauron…'_

Sam though desperately for something that would distract Frodo from this pervasive message then, as if a silent prayer had been answered, he suddenly remembered a hobbit rhyming game that Frodo had taught him when he was still a lad. The rules were complicated and the result nonsense – exactly what he needed.__

_'We shall win the battle at the Black Gate Pippin?'_

_'what we sayed…'_

_'It is then assured?'_

_'is for certerain…'_

Sam ran over the rules in his mind. The game consisted of making up little verses. The first line has to alliterate in the adjective and the noun, then in the second line these two have to change places in some way but still make grammatical sense at least. Then the third line is a disclaimer that uses the alliteration again which continues into the last line, which must rhyme with the second line and provide a new initial letter in the final word. The next player then takes over and must use the initial letter of the last word to alliterate their verse. 

Hobbits liked complicated games.

_'Why is that so?'_

_'we got Ring…'_

_'How can that be, halfling?'_

Sam began in as loud a voice as his sore, parched throat would allow.  
"I'm not a kindly king  
But I am a kingly kind  
So I wouldn't kick a kitten  
Or kill a kipper that has dined.  
Your turn Mr Frodo. Yours has to be a 'D'."

"Sam I can't." Frodo was clutching at the Ring as they struggled up the mountainside, "please you go again." Desperately the bone weary hobbit tried to focus his mind on what Sam was saying and not the voice in his head.

_'we got through magnic…'_

_'Magic?'_

_'what we sayed…'_

Sam drew a deep breath and started the next round,

"I'm not a ducking dreamer  
But I am a dreaming duck  
But I didn't drive a donkey  
Down the dell in all the muck.  
Come on Mr Frodo, listen to me – not them. Try to make one yourself."

"It's hard… I can't think," Frodo bit his lip as he struggled a little further up the steep rocky slope, dislodging a little shingle as his foot slipped on the uneven surface. "All right, what's the letter Sam?"

"It's 'M' Mr Frodo, 'M'." Sam reached his hand down to help his master over the treacherous terrain, "Please try, you taught me this game, I'm sure it will help." 

_'What will that do for you?'_

_we not big but we go make we armery strongrer than He armery...'_

Frodo took a deep breath and managed to push the insistent little voice into the back of his head as he thought up a response.

"I'm not a mighty martial  
But I am a martial might  
So I may or mayn't mind much  
If you try to make me fight."

"That's it Mr Frodo!" Sam was almost exultant, "Beat them at their own game. Right my turn again. It's 'F' right?"

"That's right," Frodo agreed. As Sam had gradually pulled him into the game the voices had fallen more into the background, until he hardly was aware of what they were saying.

"Um…" Sam did not usually manage to play the game so quickly, but he was close to panic and the words seem to come more easily than usual.  
"I'm not a flying flower  
But I am a flowering fly  
So I wouldn't flout a fellow  
Or flick him in the eye.  
Your turn Mr Frodo, don't take too long," Sam jibed. In the nature of the game there was always much good spirited teasing and taunting, although it felt rather hollow just now. Sam was sure that, if they came out of this alive, neither one of them would ever want to play the game again. "You've got to do 'E', I don't envy you that!"

"Oh Sam, that's too hard," Frodo gasped for air in the sulphur-filled atmosphere, "I don't think I can."

"You must Mr Frodo," Sam encouraged. "I think I can still hear Mr Legolas just a little, please try to think."

Frodo screwed his eyes shut as he forced his errant mind to concentrate on the letter. Legolas… he… no! He must think of the game in hand. 'E'… "I have it!  
I'm not an elf entirely  
But I am an entire elf  
So I don't want to encumber  
Everybody, just yourself.

"Very good Mr Frodo," Sam felt they were both settling down into the rhythm of the exercise now. "That leaves me with 'Y', whoa that's a tricky letter and no mistake. Not sure I can do that."

"Come on Sam," Frodo was still trudging along behind his servant but becoming more and more involved in the game and leaving the voices behind. "You made me do 'E'!"

"All right!" Sam had actually used the time to think of something. "How's this?

"I'm not a youthful yawn   
But I am a yawning youth  
So I wouldn't yell out yesterday  
Yet you have the proof.  
"There, Mr Frodo, how's that?"

"Sam, I do believe you've played this game before!" Frodo even managed a small chuckle. "You must have been taught by an expert!"

"Indeed I was Mr Frodo, indeed I was!" Sam turned to offer a hand and a little smile as they negotiated another difficult part. "Your turn now, it's a 'P', easy one for you I would think."

Frodo bravely returned the smile. He was feeling so weak and weary, but dear Sam had actually managed to chase away the voices. Perhaps they would succeed after all. Then Frodo turned his mind to his task. Although the rhymes were always supposed to be original, hobbits over the years memorised certain ones and would sneak them in if they thought their opponent would not notice. Frodo remembered one Bilbo had made and that he had always had trouble reciting without giggling. "How about this one Sam?__

"I'm not a pheasant plucker  
But I'm a pheasant plucker's son  
And I'm only plucking pheasants  
Till the pheasant plucker comes."

"Mr Frodo!" Frodo thought Sam sounded quite shocked at the implied cheekiness of the possibility of getting this one wrong. "You cheated! That's one of Mr Bilbo's!"

***********************************************************************************************************

_'we not big… but we go make we armery strongrer than He armery...'_

_'But you are only a hobbit – a small halfling, how can you wield the Dark Lord's Ring?'_

He listened. 

For a moment. It was tiresome and foolish. The pathetic troops were marching upon the Black Gate of Mordor. They would not breach His forces. He would open the Gate to meet them and His mighty hordes would pour forth, wave upon wave. There would be no stopping Him.

And yet…

That one… the heir of Isildur, he had confronted Him – again. Challenged Him in the palantír, pulling it relentlessly to his own will. Then he had shown Him the halfling! Why did these insects come into the schemes of His enemies? They carried no magical properties that He could discern – nothing of worth at all.

And yet…

This one… the small one, He had touched it before. That traitor Saruman had offered – no given it to Him. But it was blank – stupid, too small to even tread on. Not worth crushing. He had thrown it to the orcs.

And yet…

It had survived… and escaped! Escaped His impenetrable tower, His mighty kingdom. But it was a worm. Worms may pass unheeded where others are challenged. It meant nothing more.

He listened…

_'not we go wielded It legolas, we carryering It…'_

_'What will you do with the Ring then?'_

_'we gone go give It to king… we takering It for the new king, legolas!'_

_'Will he wield It, Pippin? Will Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir, wield the Ring of Sauron?'_

_'will…'_

Were they were trying to bait Him, to lead Him somewhere. They claimed to have the One Ring – His Ring. But it was too obvious – they were play-acting – He could hear it. The elf – that interfering elf; He had thrown him into oblivion before; these maggots were an infestation, returning to plague Him again and again.

_'Then Sauron will fall when the Ring is on the hand of the heir of Isildur.'_

_'strider go make Dark Lord fall, can't not go win he … we go carryering the Ring at he…'_

_'Pippin, is the Ring safe?'_

_'legolas? we bored and more bored at this… no one be listering at we…'_

So it was a trap! They were trying to tempt Him to show His hand early, perhaps to unleash His strength before they reached the Black Gate so that His hordes would be confused and scattered when they found no opponent. 

_'Hush little one – you must not say that so that everyone can hear!' _

_'legolas it not make no differings… we not gone give It at strider anery way…'_

And yet…

He reached out the tiniest tendril of his mind to touch the halfling. Not enough for it to feel Him but sufficient to stroke that thought carefully, to read it and the intent behind the thought. 

He paused. Shocked! Then… Triumphant! It had It! The halfling truly carried His Ring – the One Ring! He had never sensed It upon the creature before but now there was no doubt. He, Sauron felt the halfling's weight of obligation, its dread at being encumbered with such a burden. For burden it felt it to be. 

He smiled…

_'What?' _

_'legolas… gandalf and strider they… they… want take It… but that not go be good do it?'_

_'No, I am sure they will do what is right.'_

His eye searched. He left His battle planning and strategy, for what use was war when He soon would hold All in His hand. There, at the head of the pathetic army, it sat upon the great white horse. A maggot upon a wizard's steed! Perhaps He would dissect this insect Himself this time rather than feed it to His orcs – if only to find the value these fools placed in it.

_'how can they? they not knowding when Ring go get they – be same, same as boromir.'_

_'Oh Pippin! I think you have to trust them, what else can you do?'_

He summoned His remaining Nazgûl.

_'throw It way! and we gone go do too!'_

**'HALFLING! YOU SHALL NOT! SPEAK NO MORE IN MY HEARING WITHOUT MY LET! I SHALL SEND FOR YOU AT ONCE!'**

_'n-n-n-not… pliss…not…'_ Fear raced through Pippin like a palpable thing. He felt as if his whole body had turned inside out and his stomach threatened to lose its contents.

**'SILENCE – SPEAK ONLY AS I COMMAND! HAVE YOU THE ONE RING? ANSWER!'**

_'d-d- don't not go know that…'_

**'DARE YOU LIE TO ME! HAVE YOU THE ONE RING? ANSWER!'**

_'Keep away from him. Speak only to me and do not torment the small one with your enmity!'_

**'ELF! BE SILENT! KEEP YOUR COUNSEL AND LIVE TO DIE BY MY ARMIES - OR OPPOSE ME AND DIE IN PAIN AND TORMENT – CAST INTO THE ABYSS – BANISHED FOREVER FROM ENTERING THE HALLS OF MANDOS'**

**_'I shall not be silent from defence of Peregrin. He is bound to my soul as much as to my mind. You, and no one, shall forbid me!' _**As Legolas increased the power of his voice, by will of effort, he mentally placed himself between Pippin and what he sensed to be the great lidless eye.__

**'MOVE ASIDE ELF – YOU SHALL NOT CHALLENGE ME! THIS IS MY HALFLING – HE CARRIES MY RING – I SHALL TAKE HIM – HE WAS MINE – HE IS MINE – HE SHALL REMAIN MINE! I SHALL BE HIS FUTURE AND HIS ENDING!'**

_'legolas, not be dead at we pliss not… It be…'_

**'SILENCE HALFLING INSECT – DO NOT SUE FOR HIS GRACE – YOU HAVE LITTLE ENOUGH OF YOUR OWN. NOW PERFIDIOUS, MENDACIOUS ELF –MEET YOUR DEMISE!'**

The vanguard of the army had been halted by Aragorn as Pippin had squeaked in terror and slumped forward, clinging tightly to Shadowfax's neck as if he would fall. As Gandalf looked anxiously to Legolas he saw that the elf's face was immobile but set with grim determination. The wizard knew a confrontation was in progress, this was what he had expected, indeed what he had planned. Now he just had to trust to his judgement that Pippin and Legolas would be equal to the challenge.

***********************************************************************************************************

Éowyn stayed by Merry's side as he finally dozed a little, worried that either Legolas would call to her again and Dysgwr would bar her access to the hobbit, or that Merry might feel Pippin's thoughts again and become distressed. Faramir stayed by Éowyn's side because he could not bear to tear himself away.

The door open slowly and the pair braced themselves for another onslaught from Merry's healer and protector.

"Why are you awake in the cold dawn, dear sister-daughter?" It was Théoden. 

Éowyn breathed a quick sigh of relief, "Uncle, I'm glad it is you. I have to sit by Merry, there have been some – developments in the night."

"What has happened?" Théoden gave his niece a concerned look, "why did you not send someone to fetch me?"

"I had to deal with the problem at once." she explained. "Legolas spoke to me in my mind with a message for Meriadoc."

"And you Captain Faramir," Théoden looked a little less kindly at the young man. "What keeps you from your rest?" Théoden did not wait for an explanation, it was apparent to the elderly king what the attraction of Merry's bedchamber was at present and it certainly was not the hobbit. "Perhaps you should have persuaded my niece to retire when her task was completed, she is still not entirely healed, no more are you, or so I understand."

"My Lord," Faramir had stood as the king entered and now addressed him with a short bow. The people of Gondor had become unaccustomed to Royal protocol, although Faramir understood it well. "I would not presume or attempt to dissuade the Lady Éowyn from her purpose, I fear it would avail me little."

"Well I should not disagree with that Captain," Théoden smiled a little at the remark, "Éowyn can be most tenacious when she is pursuing a cause. Now sister-daughter, what are these – developments?"

"Legolas called to me with his mind and bade me ask Merry to contact his cousin's gardener with a message, it was a little complicated." Éowyn explained, her eyes never leaving the sleeping hobbit, "But after that, Merry began hearing, or rather feeling, Pippin crying out in distress."

"And now?" Théoden leaned over the bed just as Merry let out a deep sigh and shuddered, his eyes opening to see the King. "Merry? I am sorry, did I wake you? How are you feeling?"

"I-I don't know my Lord," Merry blinked a little trying to focus to the light. He was still unused to waking to his returned sight. "You did not wake me, I can hear something, Pippin and Legolas and something else. It is strange, they do not normally pull me from sleep. Oh! I-I can't… Pippin have a care!"

"Merry what is it?" Éowyn took his hand as he reached up to his head. They touched his brow together. "Oh I feel it!" She and Merry clutched hands even more tightly as they felt the emanations of Pippin and Legolas and…

_'d-d- don't not go know that…'_

**'DARE YOU LIE TO ME! HAVE YOU THE ONE RING? ANSWER!'**

"Who is it Merry?" Éowyn whispered in awe-struck fear.

"It is Sauron," Merry whispered back in horror, "Pippin and I have been touched by Him before – in Barad-dûr."

_'Keep away from him. Speak only to me and do not torment the small one with your enmity!'_

**'ELF! BE SILENT! KEEP YOUR COUNSEL AND LIVE TO DIE BY MY…'**

"Legolas is confronting Him." Éowyn looked up at Théoden and Faramir who were standing beside the bed, watching the two comrades engage in their unique communion. "He is in grave danger I fear."

**_'I shall not be silent from defence of Peregrin…' _**

"Éowyn," Merry squeezed her hand a little tighter. "We have to help him. We cannot leave him or Pippin to face this alone."

**'MOVE ASIDE ELF – YOU SHALL NOT CHALLENGE ME! THIS IS MY HALFLING – HE CARRIES MY RING – I SHALL TAKE HIM …"**

"Merry you must not interfere!" Théoden moved now between the two and attempted to pry their hands apart. "Éowyn, please, do not tempt Merry to do this – stop the contact – now!"

"No! No! We have to help them!" Merry was nearly frantic now.

_'legolas, not be dead at we pliss not… It be…'_

"But it's Legolas!" Éowyn cried in distress. "How can we just desert them?" 

Faramir gave a small frown. He was worried about what was happening, more because of the danger to Éowyn and Merry than any far away problems. Éowyn's devotion to helping her friend was also touching, but at the same time the young man felt a twinge of envy towards both the elf and the hobbit tingle in the back of his spine.

**'SILENCE HALFLING INSECT – DO NOT SUE FOR HIS GRACE – YOU HAVE LITTLE ENOUGH OF YOUR OWN. NOW PERFIDIOUS, MENDACIOUS ELF –MEET YOUR DEMISE!'**

_'I fear you, but not so much I would leave Pip to your mercy – or lack of it.'_

_'legolas, we got stop we now… come way… aaa-way at we…'_

"Pippin is trying to pull Legolas out of the link!" Merry reported, "but I don't think he can leave! It is as though Sauron is holding him there with His mind. We **_have_** to help them!"

"Merry is right," Éowyn added her voice to the plea once more, "this is beyond anything Gandalf had predicted. We cannot leave Legolas to his fate."

**'I SHALL TAKE FROM YOU FIRST ALL YOU SEE – ALL YOU SAY – ALL YOU HEAR – AS WAS DONE TO THE HALFLINGS BY MY SERVANT! THEN YOU SHALL BE CAST INTO THE BLACKNESS FROM WHICH THERE IS NO RELEASE!'**

"Merry, don't you see?" Théoden caught the hobbit by the shoulder, trying to be gentle because of his injuries, "You will lead the Dark Lord to Minas Tirith. The people here are vulnerable without the forces that have gone out to meet Sauron." The King turned to Faramir who was indecisively looking from the hobbit to the maid, uncertain which was the right thing to do, separate them or leave them. "Pull them apart." Théoden ordered.

"No!" Merry cried in anguish, "wait! Éowyn, join with me the way Pip and I did before. We became one warrior, greater than the sum of either of us. It will change our identity and make us stronger. Do you think you can?"

"I can," Éowyn said determinedly. "What must I do?"

"Visualise a valiant maid/hobbit warrior that is neither you or me," Merry looked deeply into the maiden's eyes, "but equal parts of both, that takes the strongest from each of us."

Éowyn gazed back and suddenly felt herself merging with Merry as they joined souls. She was amazed as she felt the entirety of the hobbit's being wash over her and touched his truth, sincerity and love. Then she knew his pure heart, the depth of deep fidelity and earnest courage. As they merged deeper, she could feel the whole of the Shire in this one dear being and his joy of his place within it beside his kith and kin. "Merry…" Éowyn whispered his name in wonder and joy.

Merry was sinking and submerging himself in Éowyn's sapphire eyes. He had been told that the great seas were deep and blue and he wondered suddenly if they were like Éowyn's eyes. He felt his own eyes prick slightly with tears for the sadness in her life. Mother, Father, Theodred, a small flare of anger at Wormtongue. Merry held that thought for at least a second, seeing for the first time what the odious man actually looked like. 

Then he saw Éowyn's long and patient waiting as her spirit kindled and then burned inside her. He rejoiced in her courage, wisdom and tenacity, that was gently tempered with sweetness and a kind heart. The love she felt was a little confusing for Merry. He understood the sweet love of friendship she reserved for him and Pippin and Legolas. The love of kin she held devoutly for Théoden and Éomer. Then something strange that Merry was unsure of. A passion, for… Strider? That confused him for a while, but then it was replaced with something new, what was it? A desire, coupled with growing love and respect for… for Faramir. Merry smiled secretly at this, for he knew it was returned and so did Éowyn, she just didn't want to tell the poor young Captain yet.

_'no legolas, you got come back… back at we…' _Frantically Pippin threw his mental being in front of the elf, making a barrier between him and Sauron. The hobbit was brushed to one side and the Dark Lord directed his venom at Legolas, holding him still in the void. 

**'ELF – HENCEFORTH – SEE NAUGHT! SPEAK NAUGHT…'**

_'NO YOU NOT GONE DO LEAVE! LEAVE!'_

_'aiieee! is not be merry what you do – get éowyn?'_

The being that had materialised in Pippin's mind and within the link was like nothing the hobbit or the elf had seen before. The warrior stood straight and fair. Not as tall as a man, but taller than a hobbit. Not as broad as a man, but with more muscle than a maid. S/he stepped into the void that was growing, long golden hair streaming in the wind, pointed ears sharply parting the flowing strands. Eyes of the bluest sapphire ever beheld, the features were soft and yet finely carved, a pretty turned up nose, that belonged to neither Merry or Éowyn and the same determined chin, but it had now become androgynous in the sharing. A great sword was held aloft in a slender yet strong hand and the figure was clad in golden shimmering mail that too was neither masculine nor feminine.

_'LEGOLAS, GO BACK OF WE, GO NOW FOR YOU…'_

**'STUPID CREATURES – I KNOW YOU – DID YOU THINK I WOULD NOT? YOU SLEW MY SERVANT – THE FIRST – MY CAPTAIN. COME YOU TO PROTECT THE ELF? IT IS DONE!'**

_'NO – NOT DONE.'_ Merry/Éowyn stood foursquare between Legolas and the ominous being. The Dark Lord took no form, but they were more aware of Him than anything else in this netherworld_. 'WE FIGHT YOU CAP-TAINED AND WE FIGHT YOU. PIP LEGOLAS GO OUT – GO OUT NOW!'_

_'not we leave at you and is éowyn…' _Pippin resolutely stood beside Legolas, who, within the mind world they occupied, was now staggered to his knees and rubbing his knuckles frantically at his eyes.__

Merry/Éowyn raised the mighty sword and swung it in the direction of the terrifying, overpowering shadow. There was a fearful and tumultuous sound, a great clash as if two of the Valar had crossed weapons and Merry/Éowyn felt their sword halt as it hit an unseen force. They pulled back and struck again. This time there was a cacophony of steel and metal as they battled with the unseen Dark Lord, trembling with fear and anger, but grown strong by their union. 

There was a great flash of light followed by a peal of thunder and suddenly Legolas and Pippin were no longer there. 

**'YOU FLITHY CREATURE THAT DARES TO CHALLENGE ME! WHAT ARE YOU?'**

He paused for a moment…

He knew this being, and yet He did not. The Witch-King had fallen to it, but it had grown… changed… melded… moulded. Whatever it was, it should die, but first it should suffer… suffer pain and torment for at least an age of man. For it was a man – no not a man… woman… no… He reached out and smote at it, trying to discover its secret, but it was hidden from Him.

Merry/Éowyn almost sank to his/her knees as the mighty ethereal sword crashed down on him/her once more. But s/he parried the terrible blow with amazing power borne out of desperation and a strength neither Merry or Éowyn alone could ever hope for.

Sauron drew back, surprised and fascinated at the tenacity of the being.

**'DEFY ME THOUGH IT MATTERS NAUGHT – I SHALL FIND AND FINISH YOU ERE LONG. THE ELF IS AFFLICTED – I HOLD HIS SIGHT AND VOICE – YOU KEPT ME FROM TAKING HIS HEARING AND IMMORTALITY – BUT I SHALL HAVE IT! FOR NOW I KNOW WHERE LIES MY RING – THE HALFLING CARRIES IT AND ABOVE ALL ELSE I SHALL HAVE THAT! – NOW BE GONE!**

As the words crashed over Merry/Éowyn a great gust of fire left Sauron in his terrible rage and flew out across the darkened land of Mordor. The Overheavens opened with loud rumblings that echoed and resounded to the mountains and back. With terrible crashes, lighting spears stabbed down to the blackened earth, sending flashes of light to vie with the flames now spilling from Orodruin. The mountain trembled with the Dark Lord's fury and rocks were split asunder from its topmost crags, tumbling down into a fearful avalanche that tore and plundered its way down the steep slopes, smashing all in its path.

Merry/Éowyn saw the anger and the destruction. It gave him/her the opportunity s/he needed to leave the dreadful presence. S/he steeled himself/herself for the wrench of separating again. S/he remembered how Legolas had explained that too much combining of minds held the danger the separating again became more difficult. But it was already hard to do.

As he watched Faramir noticed that Merry's and Éowyn's knuckles were grown white as their grip on each other increased. Suddenly both were gasping for breath. 

Théoden had given up trying to separate them and was just watching them both intently for any signs of distress. "Quickly, now pull them apart, bring them around!" He ordered Faramir as their breaths became more frantic.

Faramir, emboldened by Théoden's order, grabbed the clutched hands with both of his, intent on separating the two. Light seared into his brain as a huge wave of emotional friction scorched across his mind. Faramir gasped in astonishment and wonder.

He saw an impossibly beautiful but handsome warrior-maiden standing four-square and firm. A mighty gleaming sword was raised up in his/her hand and Faramir realised with shock that he did not know if he saw Merry or Éowyn. 

_'FARAMIR WHY COME YOU HERE?'_

_'It is not known… why come me here? Is who you are Éowyn… Merry? Too great is your voice!'_

**_'Faramir we may talk lower. But go from here. We too must leave!_**

Faramir watched in fascination for several moments, unable to react as he was lost in wonder at the beauty and strength of the being before him. Then he saw the presence behind the magnificent warrior – a dark shadow, terrible and filled with rage. It reached towards Merry/Éowyn, who turned and clashed swords with the attacker at the last moment. 

It was then that Faramir realised he could help. _'Take the hand of I – let I pull you back to the other world.'_

Merry/Éowyn saw the proffered hand and reached out to take it. As Faramir grasped the small white fingers he threw himself backwards and together they plunged into a downward spiral.

The black shadow of threat was left behind as they fell deeper into the black void. Faramir felt the rippling waves of Merry/Éowyn's thoughts brush across his. S/he was happy that he had come to help them, but also saddened that it had endangered him. Then Faramir saw a deep longing in the combined soul, a wistfulness of separation, tempered with a resolute devotion to duty. Who was the wistfulness for? He could not define the longing, was it for the elf? Or perhaps Aragorn? 

They spun round as they sank deeper and then Faramir felt them halt. He was being pulled back upwards, towards the light, Merry/Éowyn had recovered his/her strength and was exerting it now to drag them into the living world. Faramir could feel the effort and power that was flowing through the wondrous being and he marvelled at it. Then, all at once he knew! The longing was for Pippin! He let more of the thoughts drift over his and then in a tiny chink of Merry/Éowyn's mind was another longing? desire? love? S/he was trying to hide it, but this thought was not sad, it was filled with promise, hope… it was for him!

"Oh Merry!" Éowyn took several deep breaths and looked down at the cluster of hands. Both Faramir and Merry were squeezing her small, delicate hands almost cutting off the circulation but she did not mind. They were back, they were safe!

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"Frodo!" Sam screamed his master's name in terror as the rocks began to fall from above. He frantically threw himself on top of Frodo hoping to protect him from injury with his own body.

"Mmphh!" Frodo grunted. All the air was knocked out of his body as Sam landed on him. He had no opportunity to see the rock fall begin, but the evidence of it soon was apparent as the ground beneath the two hobbits began to roll away taking them with it. Terrifying lightening lit the surrounding area, illuminating the grim terrain in steel blue flashes. Larger rocks gathered momentum, increasing the volume of the slide and, in spite of Sam desperately trying to gain some kind of hold on the steep slope, nothing would halt their frantic fall, as they tumbled over and over with great boulders smashing around them.

"Mr Frodo? Mr Frodo!" The pair of little hobbits finally came to rest at the foot of the steep slope. Frodo was half buried in rubble and Sam, who had just extricated himself in one piece from the debris, was frantically clawing away the shingle from around his master's unmoving body. The skies had appeared to open up and a torrential rainstorm was pounding them with relentless force.

"Say something Mr Frodo m'dear, please." Sam abandoned his digging for a moment to pat Frodo's cheek, although it would seem that if the rain did not bring him to, nothing would. "Talk to your Sam."

"S-ssam?" Frodo blearily opened his eyes, trying to blink the rain out of them. "What happened?"

"Oh you're alive," Sam gave a deep sigh both mentally and physically. "I was so afraid Mr Frodo, that you'd gone and left me like last time, only that this time it might be for… now then Sam…" he admonished himself, "no gloomy talk like that."

"Gloomy? What Sam?" Frodo sounded confused and sleepy, even though he was soaked through to the skin and his hair was plastered down to his head. Sam realised he was probably hurt quite badly, most likely a knock on the head, it had been quite a fall.

"Mr Frodo I think you're a bit hurt." Sam tried not to sound too dramatic. "We just took a bit of a tumble you and me. Let's get you out and see what's to do."

More carefully now, Sam worked on in the drenching rain, digging the shale from around Frodo and then gently pulling his master out from under the debris. He felt the wasted body over, grimacing at how thin his poor Mr Frodo had become. "I think you may have got a bit of a bump on the head, Mr Frodo, I can feel the lump. Otherwise do you feel all right?"

"I think so Sam," Frodo put his hand to the spot on his temple and he could feel the swelling himself. "It's just this, otherwise I'm as good as I was before – which isn't saying much."

"Well no, but at least you're not too much worse." Sam bent to look at the egg-shaped lump in the dim light, just as a flash of lightening threw the whole area into three seconds of illumination. "Oh but I think you'll be getting quite a shiner as well Mr Frodo, Sir."

"Oh Sam, where are we?" Frodo's heart sank as he realised that they had probably just fallen down the steep mountainside it had taken them so long to climb.

"Well, we seem to be back at the bottom of the mountain." Sam admitted, his heart sinking as he realised for certain it was true. Not only was Frodo hurt, but they now had to climb all the way up again. "But, as my old gaffer always says, 'It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good,' at least there's one good thing in all of this."

"Sam, I don't believe even you can find a silver lining in what just happened." Frodo shook his head in disbelief. "How can any of this be good?"

"Oh I don't know Mr Frodo." Sam lifted his dripping face up to the heavens and opened his mouth for a moment. "At least we've got some water now."

***********************************************************************************************************

Before Legolas slumped forward, Gimli had sensed his tension and was alert to something being wrong with the elf. He caught him before he could fall and held him steady upon the horse.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Pippin was calling frantically to the wizard, so Gimli focussed on keeping Arod steady and Legolas in place until someone came to help. He had no doubt that that was what Pippin's cries were for. Something had gone amiss with the mindspeak trap again. 

Gimli snorted slightly, "Laddie can you hear me? Are you awake? What happened?" Legolas made no reply, but Gimli felt a small squeeze from the elf's fingers. Then strong hands were there, lifting the elf down, sitting him on the ground. Aragorn taking his hand and lifting his drooping head up and prying open an eyelid.

"Gandalf! Gandalf, get we go down!" Pippin was squeaking at the top of his voice and being ignored as the wizard frantically patted the elf's face, trying to discover if he was aware.

Gimli managed to slide off Arod and went to Pippin. "Come on young hobbit, can you jump?" The dwarf lifted his arms up to Pippin who immediately accepted the invitation and leapt into Gimli's strong arms.

"Legolas, let we see he!" Pippin pushed past Gandalf and Aragorn moved back to give the hobbit access to his elf. "Legolas, Legolas, please don't be not good, please, please. Open you eyes at we! He not got do that at you – no, no!"

"Pippin? Pippin!" Gandalf shouted at the hobbit the second time. "Calm down and tell us what happened to Legolas."

"It was He and He go taked it same as we and Merry and we." Pippin blurted the tumbled words so quickly, even Gandalf could make no sense of it. 

"Taked, I mean took what?" Gandalf held Pippin by the arms and gave him a little shake. "What did Sauron take? You were in confrontation with Him, weren't you?"

"Were and He taked it from we Legolas." Pippin was sobbing now and had thrown his arms around the elf's neck and buried his face in his shoulder. Legolas sat silent and passive, his eyes were open now, but stared away into the distance gazing at nothing. But when Pippin threw himself around the elf's neck, Legolas felt the small body and, enclosing Pippin in his arms, bent to kiss the curly head.

"Pippin, answer me properly." Gandalf pulled the hobbit away and turned him around face to face, "What did Sauron take?"

Pippin thought for a moment and tried to remember exactly what had happened. "He say gone go make Legolas like Merry and Pippin altogether and not be see or hear or say things." 

Gandalf nodded, this now made more sense. "Go on."

"He then gone make bad things at Legolas, make he not go Halls at something."

"Mandos?"

"Think so." Pippin drew a tear filled breath. "But He not do all, because came Merry and Éowyn be together and stop He."

"Merry and Éowyn came and stopped the Dark Lord?" Gandalf shook his head at what he was being told. "I left instructions for Merry not to interfere, but I suppose that was asking a lot, but you say the Lady Éowyn helped him?"

"She did," Pippin confirmed. "Only they be gone together, you know make one people out of two, like Merry and Pippin did when we fight at Witch-king."

"Ah!" Gandalf remembered that. "And they prevented Sauron from hurting Legolas?"

"Did! They stop He make Legolas go in bad black place and not let He take Legolas hear things." Pippin paused and turned back to the elf and stroked his hair and kissed his face, causing Legolas to reach out and run the back of his finger gently down Pippin's cheek. "But He takeded Legolas see things and say things. He blinded now like Merry was and he not say things like Pippin was." 

Gandalf sighed and put his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I am sorry Legolas this has happened. I know it is my fault and if I'd had any choice it would not have occurred." He paused and watched for a reaction, but there was none. "You have both done well, but it is not over I am afraid. Pippin still must ride on Shadowfax and wait for the Dark Lord to come and claim him. We are not there yet and we still need the diversion."

Legolas wrenched his shoulder away from Gandalf's hand and seizing hold of Pippin, pulled the little hobbit close to his heart and held him there so tightly that no one, not Aragorn nor Gimli, could pry him free.

TBC

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A/N Nice long chapter – yes? That's to make up for not posting it as quickly as the others – I couldn't seem to find a natural break and all these things had to be dealt with together and we don't even know what Smag & Co are up to.

That's one excuse for taking – what? A week to update – tsk tsk! The other one is my deep gloom and depression at not getting nominated for my "Fate and the High King Falcon" poem in the Mithril Awards. I had high hopes for that little baby, but it just didn't make it. 

See – then I throw a wobbly and say I can't write for toffee, start throwing all my toys out of the pram and say I'll never write again and am going to take all my stories off the net and generally behave like a two – no make that one – year old. Marigold says it's because I'm sensitive and creative! Ha! She's far too nice and, on this occasion wrong – actually I'm just petulant and spoilt, but don't tell her that! Anyway, yet again it's thanks to Marigold that Recaptured Continued continues. 

I am thinking of starting my own Awards which will focus exclusively on Lord of the Rings and not Silmarillion stuff, because I can't write it and don't really like it (sorry). Do you think I'd stand a chance of getting nominated then? And maybe there should be a category for Lord of the Rings poetry, or Lord of the Rings poetry featuring hobbits. How about Lord of the Rings hobbit poetry, featuring Pippin? No, better would be Lord of the Rings hobbit poetry, featuring Pippin written for someone else (say Baylor) to appear in a story not by the poet? Do you think I'd stand a chance? Hmm…

Anyway sorry to waffle – on to the proper conversation.

  
Shirebound: Your Smagnu has furniture?  
Llinos: Of course – doesn't yours? Actually Marigold made me buy it. 

Pansy Chubb: Well, this is certainly not going to be as easy for Pippin as taking down a troll.  
Llinos: Hey that's not easy when you're a hobbit!

lindelea: 'Only if you can get that... condition of his under control!  
Llinos: Oh Groll's flatulence you mean – didn't you suggest that in the first place?

Aillanna-Took: I anticipate another fun, new chapter. And length doesn't much matter to me as long as it's more than one paragraph.  
Llinos: Ah well I probably disappointed you this time then. There wasn't much fun and it was a lot more than one paragraph – however it was a new chapter so one out of three isn't too bad.

:) : I would probably rather be Gimli and have no idea what is going on  
Llinos: Yup – still hasn't really got a clue – I really must write more Gimli.

Natta: I like all scenes with Merry...  
Llinos: Me too! That's why I don't write so much Gimli – detracts from Merry time!

Pickle Flavored Gumball: Argh! You did the two-chapter-posting-at-once thing again and got me all disoriented a second time!  
Llinos: Well they were posted apart – just very quickly.

Pickle Flavored Gumball: Just never stop writing, period, is all I'm saying for closing.  
Llinos: Ah well, it's Marigold you have to talk to about that!

aelfaifu: LOL on your authors notes--Well a least my merry wont pull Pippin's arms out of their sockets! (ahem, cough! Moria's revenge, cough!)  
Llinos: Ah but Kooks wrote that bit!

Artemis-chan: I love Faramir and Eowyn!  
Llinos: Oh well I hoped you liked what they got up to here. 

Artemis-chan: He's (Gandalf) still kickass, but I just don't think I like him as much now.  
Llinos: Oh and I just bought a Gandalf Action figure today complete with Shadowfax! Oh and Artemis, thank you for the nice bathroom wishes :-)!

Baylor: Gandalf called Pippin "his dear little Pippin!" I felt for the wizard in this passage;  
Llinos: Oh see Artemis – he's not all bad! Can I keep my moveable parts Gandalf toy now?

QTPie: I hope you continue this way, I am having way too much fun with all these updates.  
Llinos: Aha QTPie and I see you've forgiven me for taking time off to write the poem in Fate. (Still mumbling over it not go getting nowhere – mumble, snork, grumble!)

sam: What are you going to do with that question? I'm very curious.  
Llinos: That's why you have to keep reading.

Eldarin Queen: how do you pronounce Dysgwr. i've been trying but cant come up with a good pronunciation  
Llinos: Oh sorry! Dysgwr is a real word, but it's Welsh and means 'learner' – it was a kind of joke on my part as I wanted him to be a bit of a divvy. You pronounce it 'dus- gw-ear' to rhyme with "fuss queer". In Welsh, 'y' and 'w' are vowels.

Dear Reader : Thanks for the Éowyn and Faramir! Keep it coming. I enjoy your characterization of them  
Llinos: Still like them? Really went to town on them this time.

august wynd: i have been busy with stupid exams i'm gona fail!  
Llinos: We're not allowed that word – it's stupid exams I'm not gonna pass.

Sarah Sweetie: Also, I DEFINITLY want to see more Faramir/Éowyn.  
Llinos: Welcome Sarah – I hope that was enough Faramir/Éowyn, to say nothing of Merry/Éowyn. Thanks for the long review!

Princess-Pixie-Sugar-Stix: I LOVE LOVE LOVE Pippin and Merry, and have been looking for a story about them to become addicted to  
Llinos: Welcome also PPSS! Beware of that addiction – it'll get you just like the poppy-paste. Thank you too for the nice juicy review.

See you all soon  
luv  
Llinos


	23. Complications

Complications

Recaptured – Chapter 115 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Faramir withdrew his hand from Éowyn's and looked around at his surroundings in bewilderment. He was disorientated from his experience and not certain exactly what had happened. 

Merry was still clasping Éowyn's hand and the two were gazing deeply into each other's eyes as if they were sweethearts, recently betrothed and passionately in love. Faramir felt a bite of jealousy snag at his heart, then King Théoden's voice brought him out of his daze.

"Éowyn, Merry?" Théoden shook them both gently with a hand on the shoulder of each. "What has occurred? Is all well?"

Merry dragged his gaze away from Éowyn and shook his head to reluctantly chase away the afterimages of his soul intertwining with the shieldmaiden's. He squeezed her hand tightly then letting go, drew a deep breath. "Éowyn," he whispered. "We have to stop now."

"I know." Éowyn was sad to leave the deep oneness she had felt joined to Merry. It would be hard to explain to anyone else, her uncle, Captain Faramir, no one would understand the spiritual perfection of becoming one with the innocent untainted soul of the halfling. In that experience Éowyn had suddenly understood why it was possible for Merry's kinsman to carry the one Ring and be resistant to Its powers. She had seen inside the hobbit, become as a hobbit and thought as a hobbit and known the purity of heart and sweet fidelity that was part of being a hobbit. She had realised the difference between hobbits and men. The halflings were not just men of short stature, but were closer to the elves in their nobility and unlike men were without greed or indifference or cruelty. 

Éowyn blinked a few times and became aware of her uncle speaking to her and Faramir looking anxiously at her. Then she remembered – he had been there! Captain Faramir had joined her and Merry in their link. He had not become one with them but had witnessed their strange union, touched their combined mind. Éowyn suddenly felt coy and shy, wondering exactly what the young man had seen of her innermost feelings.

"It was a hard battle, my Lord," Merry was addressing Théoden, "The Lady Éowyn and I fought with the Dark Lord and together we fended him off from Legolas and Pip, although I fear Legolas was damaged by the encounter and that Sauron will now pursue Pippin in the flesh."

"The two of you never cease to pour wonder upon wonder." Théoden was astonished at the exploits of his little swordthain and his beloved niece. "But does Gandalf know all of this?" Théoden asked anxiously. "Can you tell?"

"It depends on what Pippin is prepared to tell him." Merry said thoughtfully. " It is strange, because Pip and I have known and loved Gandalf all our lives, but I'm not sure he trusts him completely now. "

"No, he does not." Éowyn agreed. "I could sense that in our joined minds. He truly believes that he is the Ringbearer and he must now fulfil the Quest."

"Do you believe he is the Ringbearer?" Théoden asked, "Could this have happened by some wizardry?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted, "But if it were true, why would it have happened and by whose design?"

"Merry is right," Faramir looked from Éowyn to the halfling, "If Gandalf had caused the Ring to move to Pippin, assuming that he had such power, what would be his purpose?"

"None that I can think of." Éowyn shook her head, "It must be the belief only that is in Pippin's head."

"But what will he do with this belief?" Théoden knew by now the determination of hobbits, "I fear that if young Peregrin thinks he is the true Ringbearer, he may try to carry out the Quest by attempting to go himself to Mount Doom."

"Oh I think you are right my Lord," Merry felt his heart sink as he realised it was true. "Pippin must be stopped. But I am sure he does not trust Gandalf any more and will try to evade him, Aragorn too. He will believe they plot to take the Ring from him."

"Is the Ring capable of such treachery?" Théoden asked with some surprise.

"Yes," Merry realised that not all knew exactly how corrupting the bane of Isildur was. "Frodo told me he offered it to Gandalf once, but Gandalf feared to take it for he knew it had the will to corrupt even him – a great wizard and, he told Frodo, that in his hands It would wield a terrible and unstoppable power. I think Pippin is afraid that Gandalf and Aragorn have now fallen prey to the will of the Ring."

"Then we must act at once," Théoden stood and moved towards the door. "I fear that young Peregrin may be out of the wizard's control and thereby put himself and the whole endeavour in terrible danger out of his desire to do what he feels is right."

"What do you propose to do uncle?" Éowyn looked alarmed at the sudden change to action from her elderly guardian.

"Why to go after them of course," Théoden paused for a moment. "It would be pointless to send a messenger, Gandalf will most likely need convincing of the true danger."

"Hold, Sir!" Faramir leapt to his feet as he realised the King's intent. "I shall go. I am quite well enough now and I will ride swiftly and without let through this realm. At least I will not be hindered by our own side, for I am well known and will be granted safe passage where such remains."

"But you are still not fully recovered," Éowyn protested. "I recall that the Lord Aragorn said you should be confined to these houses for at least a week."

"But I know the terrain better than your uncle," Faramir turned to Théoden, "By your leave my Lord, allow me to undertake this mission. I have as yet played small part in this conflict and I am sure this is my destiny."

"Captain Faramir," Théoden came and placed a fatherly hand on the young man's shoulder, "I know from reports that you already acquitted yourself with much bravery and you need feel no need to prove yourself further." He held up his hand as Faramir began to speak, "but, you are right and I concede. You do know the way and have a better chance of success than I. For this reason alone, I grant you leave to go."

"But Uncle!" Éowyn protested. "Captain Faramir is hardly well enough for such a journey. At the very least allow me to go with him."

"My Lady, you are not discharged from the jurisdiction of the healers yourself." Faramir protested, "and you are barely recovered from your injuries."

"No more are you my brave Captain," Éowyn smiled at the earnest protests, "so we may be truants together."

Théoden looked at his niece with despair and resignation, the thought of her riding into danger again filled him with dread. "Éowyn do you not think that Captain Faramir may ride faster alone?"

"Possibly Uncle," Éowyn agreed, lightening the old man's heart for a moment, "but what if Captain Faramir becomes ill during the journey. At least I will be able to tend him or to carry on the journey."

"And if you become ill?" Théoden pointed out, "he will be slowed by having to tend to you."

"Uncle I shall not become ill – I promise." Éowyn said it so solemnly that the King knew further argument was futile. "I know you do not wish me to go, but please give me your permission."

Théoden sighed, "Very well sister-daughter, but please do not ask me to sue for your release from the Warden of this House."

"Oh Uncle, you will have to ask his permission for us to leave, " Éowyn smiled at Faramir who was frowning slightly, somewhat overwhelmed once more by the doughty shield-maiden. On the one hand he feared for her safety, but then again, he was delighted at the prospect of her exclusive company. "The Warden will listen to you."

"Éowyn?" Merry quietly drew her attention. "Could I come too?"

"Merry, you know that would be impossible." Éowyn took his hand, "Dysgwr is reluctant to let you out of this room even and he is right, your injuries are far more severe than mine."

"But Éowyn!" Merry clasped her hand with both of his, although his right hand was still very weak, "Pippin is in danger – I have to go!"

"No Merry," Faramir laid his hand gently on Merry's shoulder, "you have to trust us to help Pippin and keep him safe."

"Éowyn, you know what I am talking about." Merry kept hold of her hand, "you know what it means to be left behind when your loved ones are in danger. You know the pain of waiting and watching and feeling helpless to do anything."

Éowyn sighed and looked deep into the valiant hobbit's eyes. "Yes Merry I know, but you can't come, King Théoden will not permit it I am certain, let alone Dysgwr."

"Certainly not Merry," Théoden agreed with Éowyn's refusal. "I could not permit you to undertake such a journey, it would be most remiss of me."

_'Merry?'_

_'éowyn?'_

_'Will come to get for you later, I am with understanding.'_

_'know éowyn… thank at you.'_

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"I think the voices have stopped now Mr Frodo," Sam peered out from under the cloak that he had spread over Frodo and himself, "and it's stopped raining as well." He lifted the cloak off both of them now and looked at Frodo carefully. His master looked battered and scraped from their tumble, as Sam guessed he did himself. They were both in a pretty poor state to begin with, but now they each had a new set of bruises and grazes to add to their collection.

"At least with all that rain, we aren't so parched any more." Sam touched Frodo's arm as he seemed reluctant to move or even speak. He looked at Sam tiredly and eventually offered his hand to him so that he could be helped up.

But even as Frodo gained his feet, he wobbled and sat back down again in the slurry that had been caused by the brief torrential downpour. "Sam I can't do it, my feet don't want to carry me any longer and I feel so dizzy I don't know which way is up."

"I know Mr Frodo." Sam knelt in the grey sludge next to his master. "It's that knock on the head you just got, it's making you all out of kilter. Here…" Sam looked more closely at the purple bruise and touched it lightly with his fingertips, making Frodo cringe. "Sorry Mr Frodo," Sam pulled back at once, "but you've got quite a bump come up there now as well."

Sam climbed to his feet once more and looked hopefully up at the first few streaks of red dawn that stabbed through the black lowering sky, surveyed their immediate surroundings. "Over there Mr Frodo!" The hobbit had spotted what they needed. "There's an overhang of rock. It's not much, but it will serve us as a shelter for a while. Perhaps if you take a good rest, while I gather up some of this water from the puddles, afore it all dries up again, you'll feel a bit better. Come on, I'll help you."

"All right Sam, I think I have to rest in any case," Frodo took the proffered hand, "I don't think I would get very far right now even if I tried."

They limped over to beneath the jutting out rock and Sam eased Frodo down onto the relatively dry patch of ground. "You close your eyes for a spell Mr Frodo," Sam suggested as he wrapped his cloak around the deathly pale hobbit. "I'll be busy for a bit yet." He watched to make sure Frodo was relaxed and breathing steadily and then began to scoop up water from the puddles with the small tin cup he still carried and pour the precious drops carefully into the leather waterbottle.

His labour complete, Sam crawled into the little shelter next to Frodo. His master was sleeping but his face was drawn and tense and he shuddered in response to Sam's light touch to his brow. He needed to bathe the bruise on Frodo's forehead, but there was little enough water to last them, even though the bottle was now full.

Then Sam realised that he was being slow. He could just dip a piece of cloth in one of the puddles, the water was still clean and fresh enough. He tore a corner off his already ragged shirt and crawled out again to dampen it in the rainwater. It was poor medicine, but the best he could offer and the resourceful gardener sat next to Frodo and gently lifted his head into his lap so that he could sooth and clean the bloodied bruise. 

Frodo stirred, his eyes opening blearily as he focussed on Sam's hand and then his face. "Is it time to go, Sam? Can we rest a little longer?"

"Well we should move on, but maybe another little while won't hurt none." Sam stopped dabbing at the bruise and, folding the piece of rag in half, laid it across Frodo's brow. "You rest back on me Mr Frodo and close your eyes for a bit longer." He put his arms around the other hobbit as he leaned back against him, his own eyes now flickering closed as Sam decided to take a quick rest himself as they seemed well hidden by the rock.

A piercing cry suddenly screeched through the air, startling both hobbits awake with a jolt. Sam peered anxiously out from their hiding place, his hands trembling as he grasped the rocks for balance to pull himself half upright. He glanced back at Frodo and saw that he had grasped the Ring tightly and was crouching with his arm over his head as if sheltering from a blow. 

"It's all right Mr Frodo," Sam gasped, "it's gone right over us. I don't think it even saw us."

"But it knows Sam, it knows!" Frodo looked up at his servant with frantic eyes, his arm still covering his head in fear. "It is looking for the Ring!"

"How can you tell Mr Frodo?" Sam was shaken too and, although he could not explain it if he took a thousand years, he too had sensed the mind of the Nazgûl that flew over them, circling and searching before it flew on. 

"I felt its thoughts," Frodo emerged a little from his crouched position. "It was singular, I have never felt that before, as if it knows now where to find the Ring."

"I know Mr Frodo," Sam admitted now, "Although I thought it was just my imagination. It was certain that the Ring would soon be in its Master's hand. It must be something to do with those voices, that somehow we're still linked and all with Master Pip."

"And that's where it's going!" Frodo stood now, straining his eyes to follow where the Nazgûl had flown on its hideous steed. "Pippin is drawing the foul creature away from us with his pretence at being Ringbearer. It's going to find Pippin!"

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"Legolas! Please! Let go of Pippin now." Gimli was crouched on one side of the elf and Aragorn knelt on the other. Legolas clutched the hobbit closely to him, his eyes squeezed shut and making no sound.

"I need to see what has happened to you." Aragorn whispered softly, "Legolas? I'm worried about you. Pippin will be all right, let go of him please."

Pippin managed to peer over Legolas's shoulder and saw Gandalf waiting patiently. He felt bad for everyone. It was not Gandalf's fault that all this had occurred and he had asked Pippin if he was willing to be used as bait, to which the hobbit had readily agreed. He was just a little confused at how the wizard had actually brought about that he should carry the Ring. Perhaps it was like Uncle Ferumbras?

Uncle Ferumbras, was not really Pippin's Uncle, he was in fact Pippin's second cousin once removed but the youngster had always called him 'Uncle'. As Pippin understood it, his father had taken over the title of Thain when he, Pippin was born. This was because Ferumbras was a bachelor and likely to remain so and was tired of being nagged to wed just to provide an heir to the Thainship, so he had abdicated the title in favour of Paladin, Pippin's father, as soon as he produced a male heir*. 

This all worked quite well until poor old Uncle Ferumbras went a little strange and forgetful. He began to ignore the fact he had abdicated and that Paladin had been efficiently and effectively carrying out the office of Thain for more than fifteen years, and decided that everyone should call him Thain and started to turn up at functions now and again and insist on being seated in the Thain's chair. No one had liked to upset him, so everyone played along, although it was well known that Paladin was still Thain and Ferumbras was never asked to make any decisions or given papers to sign. Pippin had been told all of this by his father, just in case Pippin should suddenly find himself in the position of Thain with Ferumbras still imaging he held the office.

Pippin was suddenly struck by the idea that perhaps, like Uncle Ferumbras he was deluded, he only thought he was the Ringbearer and everyone else was just playing along. But that made no sense, he had the Ring around his neck, he could feel it biting into his skin.

Much as he felt bad for Gandalf, Pippin felt worse for Legolas. He loved the elf dearly and knew that he was desperate to protect him, but Pippin knew also that he had to do what was necessary and that it may not be possible to save him from every danger. He was also devastated at what had already happened to his dear friend and perhaps now was the time that, he Pippin, could pay back some of what he owed Legolas. Pippin was certain that if he could destroy the Ring, Legolas would at least be made whole again.

"Legolas, don't be afraid for we," he whispered in the pointed elven ear, "Pippin got go make show at Sauron now, we not go be too frighteneded. You don't got hold we – Pippin got go hold at you now, show my Legolas how to go when he not seeing."

Slowly Legolas relaxed his grip and Aragorn eased the hobbit out of the elf's arms, passing him back towards Gandalf. Pippin however shrugged away from both the ranger and Gandalf and took Legolas's hand in his. As the elf was kneeling and Pippin was standing, they were face to face and Pippin peered carefully into Legolas's eyes. "He did take you see, but we go make you better soon Legolas. Pippin think he know what got do at make you go see."

Aragorn put his hand on Legolas's brow and lifted the elf's head up and sighed in defeat "It is the same malady that was inflicted upon the hobbits. Naught will mend this, but the destruction of Sauron Himself." The ranger helped Legolas back up onto his feet again. "Dearly have you paid for your fidelity and bravery my friend in protecting Pippin and I will do all in my power to restore your senses."

"Come, bring Pippin here Aragorn," Gandalf nodded towards the waiting army. "We must continue and he must go back on Shadowfax now. Gimli will take good care of Legolas." Aragorn left the elf's side and took Pippin by the shoulder.

The move was swift and unexpected. Legolas, his teeth clenched in anger, was on his feet with Pippin pulled behind him, a long dagger unsheathed and held at the ranger's throat, the message unspoken but quite clear.

"Legolas! No!" Gimli stepped quickly forward, a hand on the elf's arm. "No need for violence against our own side."

Legolas shook him off and pressed the sharp tip of the knife so that it made an indentation in Aragorn's skin that none could see for his beard, but that the ranger could feel. "Legolas, I am sorry, truly. Put the blade down, I will not force Pippin to do this, nor I will not allow him to be harmed if I can help it, you know that." 

Legolas allowed the blade to drop to his waist level, but did not sheath the dagger. Pippin started to walk past him, back to Gandalf, but the elf put his arm out to stop him. "It's all right Legolas," Pippin said, "We can still go do, not to make Legolas worry at Pippin, not go make he fight his friends at Pippin too."

"No!" Gandalf made Pippin startle. The wizard looked at the others gathered around. Gimli looked on the verge of losing his temper, his axe held in readiness, although he was not sure who in this company he would cleave. Aragorn had his hand on Legolas's shoulder now and gently removed the dagger from his hand. Éomer had ridden up to see what was occurring and stood silently, his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting to see what played out.

"No," Gandalf said again, more softly this time. " If we lose sight of the value of one precious small life, then Sauron has triumphed. We have to remember what it is that we are fighting for and if we become as foul as the enemy in our efforts to defeat Him then He has indeed won." Gandalf stooped to Pippin's eye level. "I will not make you do this thing any longer Pippin. Take that ring from round your neck and give it to me."

"No!" Pippin grabbed the ring from inside his shirt and held it tightly, moving backwards from the assembled leaders. "Don't not touch we! Pippin got keep at precious Ring!" 

The hobbit's thoughts churned over as he frantically tried to reason the situation. Gandalf wanted to take the Ring from him, as the wizard wanted to claim It now. Aragorn was not trying to stop him, so he must agree or want to steal It for himself later. Only Legolas was on his side, he had tried to protect Pippin. So it must be true! The Ring was the One Ring and Pippin Took was the Ringbearer. No one would divert him from his task. He must somehow devise a way to take the Ring to Mount Doom and cast it into the furnace from whence It came. Only that way could the Evil be undone, Legolas be made whole and Middle Earth be saved! And it befell Peregrin Took to do this thing. But he was so small against so many!

It did not matter, He was the mighty Peregrin Took Heir to the Thain! He had escaped the dungeons of Barad-dûr! He had looked into the Palantíri, many times! He had fought with the Dark Lord! He could do it! He would wait for the Nazgûl to come and take Him as before. Then He would use the Ring to command them to take Him to Mount Doom, where He would destroy the Ring!

But for now He needed deception. He would not tell Gandalf His plan. He would make them think He didn't know, that He was just a simple hobbit and not the Ringbearer.

Pippin relaxed his grip and slid the Ring back inside his shirt. He looked up at Gandalf with mournful eyes. "We not got stop now Gandalf. It not go be fault at you. We can carry Ring and make Dark Lord know Peregrin gotted It. Make We promsis go do for all body. Not go stop now."

Pippin turned to Legolas and took his hand, "Not worry at Pippin, Legolas, please. We go make you better when Dark Lord is go faileded. Then Legolas go see and talk at Pippin."

"What do you think?" Aragorn took Gandalf away to one side to speak in private. "Should we let him continue?"

"I am not happy with this," Gandalf muttered back in lowered tones. "It's getting too much of a hold on him. Do you hear how he's speaking?"

"Yes," Aragorn agreed. "He's beginning to sound like a cross between a royal king, a three year old child and the creature Gollum."

"Yes that is what I fear." Gandalf looked worriedly at Pippin, "The power of the true Ring is taking him over, even at this distance, it has somehow gained control of Pippin. He's losing his mind."

"But should we let him continue?" Aragorn asked urgently. "What are the consequences if we do not?"

"Bad, I fear." Gandalf conceded. "I think we have to let him go on, but we must keep a very close watch on him at all times. I know hobbits and this particular one only too well. If he thinks this is the One Ring, he may try to evade us to take it to Mount Doom."

"So should we not tell him the truth?" Aragorn asked. "We are dancing on a knife edge here Gandalf."

"If we do then we lose the deception." Gandalf pointed out, "Although I doubt he would believe us at this stage in any event. No we will watch him and hope he does nothing too extreme."

The two moved out of their conclave. Gandalf took Pippin by the arm and Aragorn laid his hand on Legolas's shoulder. 

"Legolas my friend," Aragorn was of course deeply distressed to see his old friend in such a bad state. "I am grieved by your sorry plight, but understand Pippin is our main hope of distracting Sauron and he is willing to continue. I promise we will take the best possible care of him – and of you." The ranger turned to the dwarf, "Gimli I am sure will guide you if you wish to remain with the company." The ranger gave a nervous laugh. "Your attack upon me lacked no speed or skill, an elf without sight is still a deadly opponent."

Legolas slumped his shoulders in resignation and nodded his head. Gimli took the elf by the arm. "Come my friend, I shall be your eyes for now and your voice at need. I have ridden with you enough to know how to guide Arod, but I need sit before you instead of behind. I'll have an eye to young Pippin as well, I fear for him as you do."

Gandalf led Pippin over to Shadowfax and lifted him up onto the great steed's back once more. "There is no need to mindspeak anymore Pippin," he told the hobbit, "in fact I think it best if you don't. Just ride Shadowfax and tell me if you need to stop or feel ill in any way."

Pippin nodded but made no reply, his mind busy with it's own plans. 'We bide We time Gandalf,' Pippin thought, 'Nazgûl gone come soon, find We! Then Pippin gone find way to Mount Doom! Go break We Ring and make Legolas better and make you and Strider better too Gandalf!'

TBC

_*See "Big Enough To Be Thain" by Llinos_

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Author's Notes:

I have to say a special thanks to Marigold on this chapter – things are getting very complicated and it's hard sometimes to keep all the twiddly bits straight in my head and Pippin gets terribly confused you know, poor dear. Fortunately Marigold doesn't and she caught quite a few twiddles in this one. Yay! Let's hear it for the beta!

Important piece of dialogue in this chapter, in case you didn't spot it, was from Aragorn .Do you all see what's happening to Pip? The ranger summed it up nicely when describing how Pippin was talking.

In other news – I have a Live Journal! Thanks to an appeal by Kookaburra (thanks Kooks) and a donation of a code from haleth (thanks haleth!) 

I have also been given super-dooper icons by Kooks and by Baylor – so nice I don't know which to use first. If anyone wants to "friend" me then please do – I love hearing from you all. You can find me here (only put slashes where the stars are) or check out my author's page for the link: http:**www.livejournal.com*users*llinos* I am planning to invite people to play the FrodoSam rhyming game and there's a po'm there already wot i rote for Baylor's birthday – in praise of the amazing work she does and is doing in writing some of the best hobbity stories around.

Heddwch!  
Llinos

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On to the Chat……….  
  
Dear Reader : Yes! Eowyn and Faramir! Definitely keep writing more!  
 Llinos: Do I detect an Éowyn/Faramir fan? Well they have more adventures in store.

Arch M: surprised that your poem was not nominated. It's excellent! Phenomenal…  
Llinos: Thank you – I feel much better now!  
Arch M: EEp! Don't leave at this!  
Llinos: As if I would! :-)

aelfgifu: I would nominate this one in a second!   
Llinos: Aha I might remind you of that later!   
aelfgifu: Will pip get re-REcaptured?  
Llinos: Hard to say, what do you think?

Tasha: though I think my head's *really* gonna explode now  
Llinos: Now, now Pip, can't have that! Who'd keep Nagash happy?

sam: I say you should start a award just for LOTR, just make sure you add a category for betas, like say, Marigold:)  
Llinos: Oh definitely an award for betas – especially Marigold!

Xena: So I spent forever going through and reading all the chapters. Much like climbing Mt. Doom  
Llinos: Well I hope you don't tumble down again like my Frodo and Sam did! Glad you like it though :-)

Pearl Took: You did my little brother proud!  
Llinos: Why thank you Pearl!

Pearl Took: I was 'edge of my seat' glued to my monitor reading it.  
Llinos: Oh good – actually so was I! I never know for sure what will happen when I start a chapter and it's interesting to find out.

Natta: I'm still trying to imagine Merry and Eowyn mixed.  
Llinos: Yes, I hope for Faramir's sake it's all very innocent and chaste.

Princess-Pixie-Sugar Stix: *is stricken speechless*  
Llinos: Oh dear – first Legolas and now you!

Baylor: Is this game your invention? It's too clever and fun and hobbity!  
I'm not a whimsical writer  
But I am a writing whimsy  
So I wouldn't want to whistle  
Whilst my welcome grows flimsy.  
Llinos: Oh yes – wanna play?  
I'm not a flaming fan,  
But I am a fanning flames,  
For foisting flimsy foibles,  
and fashioning foolish games.

:) :  I bet it was hard to write! all the s/he, her/him, etc!  
Llinos: Actually, not as hard as Pippin is getting to write – Marigold and I are having a hard time keeping a check on his current mental state.

Siah: I'll bet youve inspired some fanart.  
Llinos: Yes there is some by Emma – you can find it here, but change the stars to slashes (ff.net strips them out): http:**www.geocities.com*aelfgifuemma*recapturedpics   
Siah: Will be checking back more often now!   
Llinos: Aha I thought the elf would keep your engage your attention.

roadkill-writer: Can Legolas still hear then  
Llinos: Yup – you got it, and of course being an elf his hearing goes a long way!

Artemis-chan: Poor Legolas! Why'd that have to happen to him??  
Llinos: Well he's got off pretty lightly so far when you think what's happened to Merry and Pip!

Eldarin Queen: HOW COULD YOU!  
Llinos: See above.

meatball: GAH!! Now Legolas can't see or talk?  
Llinos: Oh dear – I seem to have angered a lot of Legolas fans! But he's a big boy now – he'll cope.

august wynd: how long did it take you to come up with those rhyme things? those were pretty cool!  
Llinos: not too long really, although I based it on the pheasant plucker tongue twister, which I didn't write. I think I'll start a gave on my Live Journal – if you wanna play come on over!

Lindelea: Loved the game Sam used to divert Frodo, did you make that up?  
Llinos: Yup – see previous answer. 

Lindelea: but only you know where the story is going.  
Llinos: Ha ha! I laugh – you think I know that?

QTPie: Moria's Revenge update reminded me :-)  
Llinos: Yes it reminds me – I have to go write some more of that, so I can write some more of this! Although maybe I'll do this first. It's all go!


	24. Secrets and Lies

Secrets and Lies

Recaptured – Chapter 116 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"But Milady, you said no!" Faramir was very concerned at Éowyn's plan to smuggle Merry from the Houses of Healing to accompany them on their urgent mission to catch up with the host of the Western Armies and warn Gandalf of Pippin's mental state. "Surely he is not fit for such a journey?" 

Faramir was concerned and a little disappointed – in truth, if he were honest with himself – very disappointed! Much as he liked the young halfling, increasingly, he jealously begrudged sharing any time he had with Éowyn with another and Merry was not just any other! The perian and the lady had actually combined their minds and become as one – this was far more intimate than Faramir could ever hope to be with the wondrous Lady of Rohan.

"I promised him Lord Faramir," Éowyn looked sternly at the man. "I am not in the habit of breaking promises."

"All I heard was you bid him stay." Faramir was certain his ears had not deceived him. "In agreement with your Uncle which I also agree to, Merry is not well enough to ride abroad yet."

"Oh…" Éowyn mouthed the exclamation softly, "So you did not hear." Then added, almost to herself, "That is probably well." It had occurred to the lady that if during their shared mind experience, Lord Faramir had become embedded in her consciousness as Legolas had explained could happen, it might be extremely embarrassing – especially with some of the thoughts she had been experiencing lately, many of which involved the young man before her. "I spoke to Merry in our minds – he needs to come with us. I did not question him further – I understood his need, that is all."

Faramir understood this now, although before the mind sharing he might have questioned it. There was a completeness, an understanding that does not need words, that comes from looking into the mind of another, especially someone who is close in heart and spirit. Faramir realised, with almost a shock, at that moment that he felt that closeness now with both the Lady Éowyn and with Merry. "Very well, what should I do?"

"Distract the healer, I think that he will be the greatest barrier to Merry's escape." Éowyn nodded to the small bundle that she carried with her. "I have some clothes for him here, but we shall both need to change into something more suitable for travel. I have arranged for us to be met ere we leave."

"Of course, I will spin our worthy Dysgwr a good tale," Faramir himself was already clad in his Ithilien Ranger garb, "but where shall I meet with you and who else have you enlisted to aid you?"

"Two worthies that I may trust and who also are friends of Merry." Éowyn smiled. Ŭnomer and Drâmym had been downcast at being left behind when the Rohirrim had set out, but Éomer had insisted that some representatives of Rohan should be left in the City, especially to guard King Théoden. When Éowyn had asked if they could find some clothes for Meriadoc and bring two sturdy steeds to the gate of the Citadel, both the men had bowed courteously to the Lady, then grinned at one another and hurried off about their task.

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"Oi hup!" Sniggin waved a ladle at Groll and the great beast lumbered to its feet and started forward. "Stay! Stay!" The little orc yelled batting the ladle at the troll until it stopped moving except for rocking uneasily from one leg to the other. "Fud soon! Fud soon!" Sniggin promised and the creature slathered a little, drooling spittle down on the unfortunate Bloggin's head.

Smagnu pulled Bloggin out of the way of the dribbling monster and wiped his head with the sleeve of his coat. "Don't stand under it Blog – you and all these others need to be careful o' that. This bugger gets brought down, either here or in the battle, it'll do a lot of damage landing on you little-uns."

"Yes Cap'n Sir," Bloggin scurried to stand next to Sniggin, "There's a bit o' stew left, should we feed it to him now?"

"Best wait until we set off." Smagnu surveyed the other trolls that were waiting behind the leader. They were all agitated and restless, as they had been kept in the same spot for a long time now. That was why Sniggin had got Groll to his feet; apparently if trolls were left still too long they seized up and sometimes even turned to stone. "Don't think he's still hungry and we might need a bit o' the stew to get him a' moving when the time comes."

"When will the order come d'yer think?" Grutfley, although reluctant to go into the fray of battle, was impatient for some kind of action. "If'n we don't get moving soon I'm gonna get mad in my head."

"You needs to keep calm," Smagnu advised, "meantime best be sure we's all ready. Get your chain mail on and keeps it on and make sure you got some water and tuck to hand."

"And the sword and knife," Grutfley patted his side; his weapons were never far from his person and usually on it. "You gotcha bow handy?"

"Ain't gonna carry it." Smagnu confided, "more bother than it's worth close to. I'll do better to just have me flat sword and short dagger. But let's go over what all these small orcs have got, make sure they're proper weaponed up. Least that ways they got a chance."

Grutfley and Smagnu spent the next couple of hours inspecting the defence and attack capability of their whole battalion, redistributing arms and accessories where necessary, making sure every orc had something to fight or at least defend itself with, even if it was just a sharp pointed stick. 

Smagnu gave Sniggin his long bow and quiver filled with arrows, taking some time to make sure the much smaller orc could actually load and fire the weapon. The little orc was so overawed with this treatment, he thanked Smagnu over and over, saluting and standing to attention every time the Uruk so much as looked at him. Grutfley, dismayed that Snig's brother only had his ladle and pot, gave up his short handled dagger that he had managed to acquire to a very impressed Bloggin. "Hmp! The last time I gived my knife away was to new little Pip," he did not point out that Merry had actually taken the knife off him in the first place. "I hope he made some good use of it."

"Maybe. We knows that the little Pips got away," Smagnu remembered the conversation with the strange little dark-haired halfling they had met. "Although there was that bad thought I had that New Little Pip was lost, but if they did make it, let's hope they's far away from this battle eh?"

"Yeah!" Grutfley agreed, "Last thing we need is to find ourselves having to mind the little Pips in the middle of a war – don't rightly know what we'd do."

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"Master Dysgwr could I ask a favour?" Faramir limped up to the healer as he headed for Merry's room with a pitcher of water. "It will not take more than a few moments."

"Of course My Lord Faramir," Dysgwr bowed slightly to the man who was now the ruler of Gondor and the City, at least while it stood. "How may I help?"

"My leg is ailing me grievously," Faramir lied, "I think I may have sustained an injury."

"How came this about?" Dysgwr asked, setting the pitcher down on a table outside the room, "was it caused by an accident?"

"Yes," Faramir had already planned the deception quite carefully. It had occurred to him that he could simply order Meriadoc to be released from the Houses of Healing. After all, he was now the ruler of the City and Gondor too, although he had hardly come to terms with this yet. Nevertheless, there was nothing to prevent him giving such a simple order. But, on the other hand, he did not wish to get into an argument with the healers, who would be within their rights to refuse to allow the halfling to go, especially as Merry was obviously not yet recovered. No, Faramir did not want his first ever command to a subject as Steward to be something that was obviously wrong and ill-advised. 

As this thought crossed his mind, Faramir considered for a moment why he was even helping with such a course of action. The halfling, Meriadoc should not be allowed to leave while he was still so ill. But then Faramir realised, almost with a shock, he was aiding and abetting in a falsehood because the Lady Éowyn had asked him to and for no other reason that he could see. It was as if when the Lady smiled upon him and asked for something, his own will and sense deserted him at once and he would be her willing slave in any endeavour.

"Yes," Faramir repeated, "I slipped and fell whilst walking in the gardens. It was foolish and I regret my clumsiness, but I think I may have damaged my knee."

"Did you not request assistance from the Master Healer?" Dysgwr was not usually consulted directly when someone sustained an injury, especially someone of such exalted rank.

"Er no, I have seen how you tend to the little one and I was impressed with your skill." Faramir almost bit his tongue as the lie fell from it.

"Very well," Dysgwr was flattered now, which made him more amenable. "Come into Merry's room and I will look at your injury there."

"Oh no, I could not intrude upon the little one's privacy." Faramir said quickly. "Please, we will go to my chambers, it is not far."

Dysgwr sighed. He was very torn as he was supposed to be tending to Merry and was about to bathe him. But he was also honoured to have been singled out from all the healers by the new Steward – the heir of Lord Denethor himself. "Very well, I'm sure Master Meriadoc can do without me for a while. Please lead the way My Lord."

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"Quickly Merry, I've brought you some travelling clothes and Captain Faramir has distracted Dysgwr for a while." Éowyn unwrapped the bundle she had carried to the hobbit's room and let the contents spill out on the bed. "These are actually Pippin's other things that he left behind when he donned his armour. I am sad to say your leather jerkin is damaged beyond repair, but these things should be warm enough."

Merry sat up eagerly in the bed and picked up the shirt. It was the one that Éowyn herself had washed and mended for Pip when they had camped in Ithilien. He held it to his face for a moment, breathing in the lingering scent of his cousin, a pang ran through his heart that had nothing to do with his wound and he quickly brushed away an unbidden tear. 

The hobbit managed to pull the nightshirt off his right arm and then realised that Dysgwr usually took his garment off to wash him. Merry sighed, realising he couldn't manage this without help but dismissed the idea of asking Éowyn. She was a Lady and it would hardly be proper for her to help him change his clothes. Painfully Merry tried to pull his left arm from the long sleeve of his garment using his injured right.

"Merry, would you like some assistance?" Éowyn put her head on one side as she saw the little one struggling to modestly hold the sheet in front of his chest and wriggle out of his nightshirt, whilst trying not to beleaguer his injuries further. "I think we know each other well enough by now." She smiled and gently took hold of the sleeve with her right hand, the left arm still strapped up from the break she had suffered.

Merry looked plaintively at her and then rationalised that, not only had he been dressed and undressed by Éowyn before when she had nursed him, both at Edoras and Ithilien, but they had recently shared the same consciousness. It was hardly time to start being coy with each other.

"Of course Éowyn," he said, at last dropping the formality that he kept to when others were present. "You're injured, I'm injured. It seems we must work together or not at all."

"Indeed, Merry, my dear heart." Éowyn lifted the nightshirt clear and helped the hobbit shrug into Pippin's old shirt. "It would seem that is our fate."

Merry caught Éowyn's small white hand in his as she started to reach for the small pair of britches. He bent his head and touched his lips gently to the maiden's fingertips. "'Tis a good fate, Éowyn, and I am glad of it."

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"We might try further round the other side Mr Frodo," Sam hitched his pack a little higher on his back and turned back to offer a helping hand to his master as Frodo scrambled on all fours over the steep rocks. "I think if we clamber a bit more we'll find the path again in a bit."

"If we hadn't tumbled down so far in that avalanche we'd have been there by now." Frodo took the proffered hand and hauled himself up to join Sam, "Now we may never get back on the right track."

"Don't you worry Mr Frodo," Sam looked about them, trying to establish the original route. "We'll find the way, if it takes us for ever. I know you're still feeling groggy from that fall and your poor head all bruised, but I'll make sure we find the way back to where we were."

"You're a wonder Sam beyond doubt." Frodo took a deep breath and summoned up more resolve from somewhere deep inside. "You're right, we will get there yet – we have to." They both gazed up at the precipitous climb before them, then looked back at each other. "But I'm so tired and weary, I don't know how I'm going to manage."

"I know Mr Frodo," Sam took his hand and looked steadfastly into his master's clouded blue eyes. "But you can lean on me, I still have enough strength for us both."

"The Ring is pulling at me all the time now," Frodo's hand strayed automatically to his neck as he tried to alleviate the drag of his burden, "and I'm still hearing Pippin's voice, but I'm trying to ignore it."

"I'm not hearing him," Sam wiggled his finger in his ear as if to unblock it. "Those voices are gone now for me. I thought they'd stopped talking."

"They did," Frodo said, a little puzzled himself at what he was hearing. "It's just I seem to be hearing Pip – he's not talking to anyone I don't think, except himself and very strangely too."

"Why, what's he saying?" Sam looked puzzled now. He'd always known Master Pippin as a bit inclined to talk first and think later as his Gaffer would put it, and he did have a tendency to make jokes that Sam didn't always see the funny side to, but he was not given to talking to himself, not that he knew of and, although there were many words to describe Master Pippin, and not all of them polite, Sam would never have called him strange.

"I don't know how to describe it, but, if anything, he's sounding more and more like Sméagol," Frodo shook his head in dismay, "although even more muddled if you can believe it."

"Can anyone else hear him? I mean can he lead the Dark Lord to you Mr Frodo?" Sam sounded a little panicked now. "You remember what Mr Merry told me about you not talking to Pip."

"I know Sam," Frodo agreed, "but I'm not talking back, I just keep hearing him thinking – and such strange thoughts. He says he has the Ring and must take it to Mount Doom, that he has to save Gandalf from himself and Aragorn as well – that makes no sense, Gandalf fell in Moria and Aragorn would never betray the just cause. He thinks that he must make Legolas well again. It all sounds like a terrible mess Sam and I'm so worried for poor little Pip."

"Do you think he's in danger then Mr Frodo?" Sam realised as he spoke that they were all in danger, it was just that he had become so accustomed to that state of affairs that he barely noticed any more. "I mean more than normal – if you can call any of this normal that is – if you take my meaning."

"I know what you mean Sam," Frodo smiled at the other hobbit's confusion. "And yes I do think so." The smile left Frodo's face as quickly as it had arrived. "I'm very worried for my dearest Pip. I think he is deliberately trying to lure the Nazgûl away from me and, at the same time, I think he is in danger of losing his sanity."

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"Pippin! Pippin, wake up!" Gandalf shook the hobbit, rousing him as gently as possible. "It's time for dinner." 

Pippin's eyes flickered open at the promise of food and was quite surprised to find himself still perched upon Shadowfax. How was it possible to fall asleep in such a precarious position and not fallen off? "How is We go sleep up heres, Gandalf? We not got to need much dinners and We fall off."

"I've told you before, my lad," Gandalf said as he lifted the hobbit down, "Shadowfax will not let you fall. Even though you drifted off to sleep when you should be paying attention, the King of the Mearas knows his business well enough."

"Pippin knows We business well too Gandalf," Pippin replied on his dignity again, "We needs to get much more resting to do much things soon. Shadowfaxes tells We go sleep and sleep and Pippin doing lot of good thinking too."

"Very well, Pippin." Gandalf set him on the ground, steadying him by the shoulder when he wobbled a little. "You knew you were asleep all along, so I expect you'll also know where to find dinner."

"Of course We do," Pippin combed splayed out fingers through unruly hair in an effort to wake up properly. "Pippin just follows We noses."

"Hmm," Gandalf caught Pippin by the arm before he could walk off, "I should know better by now than to tease you about food. You wait with me and I'll take you to find dinner, in truth I don't want you out of my sight."

Pippin writhed his shoulder out of the steely grip and ducked away before Gandalf could catch hold of him again. "We got to go see We Legolas firsted," Pippin said petulantly, "Pippin not get dinner until We knowed he go good."

"Peregrin Took! I will…" Gandalf stopped as he saw that the stubborn hobbit was backing nervously away from him and that his bottom lip was jutting out as if he were close to tears that were being held in check by his anger at the wizard. "Pippin, don't be upset with me." Gandalf's voice softened and he bent down a little as if encouraging a petulant child. "I'm not trying to upset you – I'm trying to help you."

"No Gandalf," Pippin spoke more boldly than he ever had before to the wizard, "We try to help you. Pippin got Ring and We gone take It where He do be!"

"Where who do be?" Aragorn had heard this last as he dismounted and came around Shadowfax to see how Pippin fared. He too had seen the little one doze off whilst still aboard the great steed, snuggling his face into the horse's mane, but, like Gandalf, knew that Shadowfax would not let his small charge fall. 

"N-none one." Pippin remembered that he did not really want Gandalf or Aragorn to know what his plans were. "We just… Pippin just gone see how Legolas be." He backed away from both Gandalf and Aragorn, turning to see where Gimli and Legolas were, before scurrying quickly off in their direction before either the man or the wizard could stop him.

"Did you know he was going to get so caught up in this?" Aragorn watched the hobbit go with deep concern, "It's as if he really were the Ringbearer and we are his sworn enemies, bent on taking It from him."

"It does not seem possible that he is so frantic about It." Gandalf agreed. "I thought that he would be vaguely aware that we were all playacting for the benefit of Sauron. Pippin is well enough versed in pretend for the sake of a deception. The only event that could have made him so entwined in his belief would be if he were bound to the Ring in some way."

"I suppose we all are in a manner of speaking," Aragorn pointed out. "All we of the Fellowship have had our lives changed by the Quest."

"I was thinking of something more physical than that," Gandalf said, his eyes never leaving Pippin as he stood between Legolas and Gimli, holding the elf's hand. "I could understand Pippin being so deeply affected by the Ring in this situation if he had ever touched It, even if only for a second. I myself have never so much as laid a finger on the thing, nor would I."

"Do you think that could make such a difference?" Aragorn asked. "I knew It exerted a terrible pull, I have felt It too, but would touching It just once make It pull Pippin in now, even at a distance?"

"Yes of course," Gandalf sighed and shook his head, "With the deception we are using It would latch on to Pippin at once, especially as Frodo gets closer to Mount Doom. If there were a chance that Pippin had ever so much as laid a finger on the Ring, I would not have done any of this."

"But he has!" Aragorn's mouth dropped open. Gandalf obviously did not know of the incident and why should he. Pippin would have no reason to tell him. "When he was a small child and playing hide and seek, he bumped into Bilbo in a cupboard. Bilbo was wearing the Ring and dropped It and Pippin picked It up and held It to his face." Aragorn paused as he saw Gandalf's face fill with dismay and horror. "I saw the incident when we looked in the palantír together."

"Then It knows him and what I have done has made It seek him out again as It feels It's peril." Gandalf drew a deep breath and started to go towards Pippin, "Whether he likes it or not, Pippin must stay by my side at all times now even if I have to put him on a lead."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Éowyn, sister-daughter, are you sure about undertaking this mission?" Théoden intercepted his niece as she made her way through the Houses of Healing to start on her quest. "You are barely any more recovered than Meriadoc."

"These are dangerous times for all Uncle dearest," Éowyn kept composed enough not to look and see where Merry was. She knew that hobbits were able to vanish almost at will and she trusted her worthy companion to fade out of sight at any sign of discovery. "I must hurry though, for Lord Faramir will be awaiting me."

"I had heard that he is injured again." Théoden had received a message via one of the maids from Dysgwr, "This alone must delay your mission I fear."

"I am sure he will be recovered by now," Éowyn knew of the deception. "He managed to travel several difficult miles with an arrow in his shoulder, I doubt a small injury sustained in the gardens here will hamper him much."

"Very well, but take best care Éowyn my own." Théoden kissed her gently on the brow and stood aside to allow her to pass. "Safe journey and may our ancestors speed your path."

"Thank you Uncle," Éowyn sketched a bob of a curtsey to her kinsman and King and hurried along the corridor, only daring to glance back once she had rounded a corner and peeped back to see Théoden no longer watching her go. She waited a beat… a pulse… and Merry emerged from the shadows as if by magic and smiled up at her as he reached her side.

"How do you do that Meriadoc?" She laughed a little as the hobbit, touched the side of his nose and shook his head. "Never mind, it's very useful. Come the others will be waiting. Although Merry was slightly hunched over and favouring his right side, he was reasonably rested for the moment which helped his mobility. Éowyn offered her right arm to lean on and Merry took it gratefully.

The pair were accosted twice more as they hurried through the Houses and out of the kitchen door. Once by a healer they had seen once or twice before, but Éowyn claimed Merry had been given leave to walk in the gardens and the second time by a nurse called Ioreth, who had tended to Merry when first he was brought to the healers. She too was told that Merry was permitted to walk in the gardens and she shook her head and walked away mumbling about no routines any more and patients wandering hither and thither. Merry and Éowyn made good their escape and made their way, albeit slowly, to the meeting point. By the time they reached the Citadel, Faramir was there too.

"Drâmym! Ŭnomer!" Merry was delighted to see his two old friends, "Thank you for helping us, once more I am in your debt!"

"I fear it is I who shall always be in your debt Meriadoc," Drâmym smiled, "But we friends seem to go turn about in service and will always be ready to help each other in a pinch."

"I hope these steeds will serve," Ŭnomer patted the tall grey mare on the neck, "The best have gone with the host of course, but these two were kept back in case of great need."

"We decided that time had come," Drâmym said and handed the reins of the spirited looking black horse to Faramir, "He is fiery and it was feared would be too skittish for battle, but his speed is the best. His name is Ceffyl-Ddu.

"She is a swift-footed mare and gentle as well," Ŭnomer helped Éowyn into the saddle, having a care to the Lady's strapped up arm and then lifted Merry to sit before her. "The mare's name is Gaseg-Wen."

"Thank you both," Éowyn took the reins and brought the mare's head round, "I will be sure to entreat my Uncle to honour you both for your loyalty."

"If he doesn't have us hung, drawn and quartered before that." Drâmym's voice was serious, but his smile belied the tone. "It matters not Milady. We are glad to assist you and of course Merry. Would you like us to come with you?"

"No." Faramir decided, "We shall travel faster alone, and I believe you were charged with the safety of King Théoden."

"This is true," Ŭnomer agreed. "Ride fast and may the wind be at your back."

They finished their farewells and slowly the three, with Merry concealed inside Éowyn's cloak, made their way to the broken City gates and through. Then they spurred up their willing mounts and raced away in pursuit of their goal.

***********************************************************************************************************

"Come Pippin I will find you an excellent dinner." Gandalf held out his hand to the reluctant hobbit. "One fit for a hobbit of standing, perhaps even with some mushrooms."

"We get our dinner with Legolas and Gimli," Pippin stepped back from the proffered hand and looked warily at Gandalf.

"Of course," The wizard sounded more relaxed than he felt, "we shall all go together. Come Pippin you walk with me and Gimli and Legolas will follow."

"Pippin got walk with Legolas." The hobbit was defying Gandalf for the second time in one day. "We got hold he hand."

The wizard did not miss the whitening of the elf's knuckles as he clasped the small hand in his. Legolas could still hear and the speed of his reactions was not to be underestimated. "You're not mindspeaking with Legolas, are you?" Gandalf narrowed his eyes a little. "Because if you are…"

"Pippin not be fool of the Tooks you know Gandalf!" Pippin was getting positively bold now. "We not stupid you knows."

"I'm not suggesting…" Gandalf looked down at the cross little figure, his hand on one hip while the other reached up to hold Legolas's hand. "Never mind Pippin, I'm sorry, of course you're not stupid. Now come and have something to eat."

Pippin relented, but would not take Gandalf's hand, instead he set off with Legolas, now clutching his shoulder, while Gandalf walked behind with Gimli at his side, the wizard questioning him quietly about how Legolas was faring. As they reached the bivouacked kitchen, a sudden commotion sounded at the far side of the encampment. All four turned in shock and surprise and Gandalf began to move swiftly towards the shrieking sound. 

The already dim sky seemed to grow blacker and Pippin felt his heart fill with dread and fear. He knew that sound, he had heard it in the Shire when the Black Riders had pursued them and again when Legolas had shot his arrow into the steed of one over the Anduin. He had been deaf to all sound the last time he had encountered such feelings, but he knew what drew near and he knew it had come for him. He also knew that he must not fight it, but allow the horror to take him.

Quaking involuntarily, he realised that he needed to get as far from other people as possible and as much out in the open as he could. Pippin caught hold of Legolas's hand on his shoulder and kissed it lightly. Then, dodging the elf's lunging grasp as he tried to stop Pippin from escaping the safety of friends, he ran towards the edge of the encampment as fast as he could, heading for some rocks which he hoped to climb in order to make his presence more obvious.

"Peregrin! Come back!" Gimli shouted at the top of his lungs, "Are you insane? Come back here!"

The dwarf felt a shove in his back and realised that Legolas was urging him to run after the hobbit. A second push galvanised him into action and the two companions raced after the hobbit, Legolas's hand resting lightly on the dwarf's shoulder. But before they could reach him, Pippin was out in the open and clambering up a little hill.

Gandalf had stopped and turned back at Gimli's cry and was racing to where the hobbit was now standing, atop a small hillock of rock, his arms stretched up to the heavens.

The Nazgûl, born aloft on his hideous winged steed, shrieked again as he located the hobbit and wheeled around like a hawk readying himself to swoop down upon his prey.

As the nightmare spectre flew down to claim its prize, Legolas, although without sight, was nonetheless more nimble than his companion and, sensing exactly where the hobbit was upon the rock, leapt high and landed squarely across Pippin, knocking the wind out of him, bearing him to the ground and covering him with his own body.

The Nazgûl swooped across the prone elf and turned again, hissing with anger then brought his foul bird to rest upon the far end of the rock. The spectre dismounted and drawing his sword, advanced upon the two prone figures. He knew that the elf's sight lived only in the Shadow World, to all else he was blind; his Master Sauron had taken the creature's senses. He was therefore no match, even though he drew his knife and kept the halfling covered with his body. He would tear him off and fling his body aside and take this Ring usurper, this maggot-sized thief, to his Master without delay.

He reached out and seized Legolas's wrist just as the elf raised his dagger to strike. Legolas drew a sharp breath as he beheld the white and withered face of the wraith and was seized with a terror that froze through his being, like an icicle stabbing his heart. Beneath him he felt Pippin struggling and his resolve hardened. He held Pippin firmly down with his knee and brought his other hand up to lock in a battle of monumental proportions with the spectre. Quickly the elf felt his strength ebbing away and knew that he could not hold the enemy off for long.

But before the Nazgûl could cast the halfling's protector aside, a bristling, solid ball of fury, flung itself between them. An axe swung through the air and sliced at his neck, then was heaved back the other way and struck at his knee.

The Nazgûl fell back, surprised by the strength and bravery of his attacker. It was only then he realised it was one of Aulë's stone people, a dwarf. He hissed and spat his hatred and started forward again, his great sword swinging down to be parried by the axe once more.

"Come on you evil wight! Feel the cut of Durin's steel. Lay one dead finger on these precious two and I shall cleave your dead bones from end to end!"

"Stand aside dwarf! You shall not keep me from my Master's bidding!" Once more he struck out at Gimli but this time he was repelled by a blinding white light.

"Get thee hence! You shall not take the halfling!" Gandalf brought his staff crashing down against the rock and another flash of pure energy and light sprang from the ground, encompassing Legolas and Pippin, as they lay hunched together.

"Filthy wizard! You cannot be in all places. I shall have It – my Master shall have It and with It you shall be destroyed – you and all these stinking maggots that you succour and save."

"Go!" Gandalf boomed the single word and the Nazgûl reluctantly backed away and regained his waiting steed. With an angry shriek that cast fear into all who heard it the Nazgûl flew back up to the black void of the sky. 

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N

First of all Live Journals. For those of you with – please feel free to visit and friend both Marigold and me. I'm here: http:**www.livejournal.com*users*llinos* (replace * with slashes throughout – ff.net strips hyperlinks) and Marigold is here: http:**www.livejournal.com*users*marigoldg*

At the moment we are (well Marigold and Kookaburra are) still playing the hobbit rhyming game, which I need a name for. How about "Plucking Poems"? Any better (which wouldn't be hard) suggestions, take them to the LJ. The game is fun for hobbits and elves of all ages, with no dangerous moving parts that can be swallowed.

Also, if you don't have a Live Journal, visit anyway. You may decide you want to start one, they're quite addictive, or you may just enjoy the visit. 

The two new horses in this chapter actually have Welsh names, for the simple reason that I do not have time to learn Rohirric and thought I could get away with just being Celtic about it. But Marigold says I have to translate. Ceffyl Ddu (pronounced Kefil thee) means Black Horse (the Ceffyl is horse and… well you can work the rest out.) Gaseg Wen (pronounced, well Gaseg Wen really) means White Mare and the Wen bit means white. There is a nice little children's song in Welsh that goes: 

Mynd drot drot ar ein Gaseg Wen  
Mynd drot drot i'r dre  
Mam yn dod yn ol dros bryn a ddol  
Gyda rywbeth neis i de 

Which is about Mummy riding a white mare to town and coming back with something nice for tea.

In other news I now have a counter! First I got a paypal account, because I do lots of buying and selling on ebay so then I got a Paypal account and then I realised I could now get a fanfiction.net account that counts the hits on my stories. Yes I know I'm sad, but I keep having this long-running argument with Marigold who claims that more people read these stories than actually review and I said, "No that cannot be! Surely all who read also review?" But she says not. So now we shall see – Aha! I shall report back in the next post.

On to the chat:

Shirebound: You have me feeling sorrier for Pippin than for Frodo, and believe me, that's hard to do!  
Llinos: Well Gandalf and Co are putting him through it a bit, so your sympathy is well placed.

Xena: I nearly did fall off Mt. Doom at this line:  
Llinos: Oh my goodness! Not without the Ring at least!

Gayalondiel: Wow! I've been away from my computer for months and months,  
Llinos: Been on a Quest? Well glad you're back Gayalondiel anyway – did you manage to lose the Ring?

aelfaifu: what if you end up with EVIL!PIP?  
Llinos: Couldn't happen Emma, not in my fic! But you knew that! :-).

sam: Poor Pip! I think I may have said that in every review I've done so far  
Llinos: Oh and you can't stop yet.

sam: Legolas gets all protective over Pippin. Why can't they mind-speak?  
Llinos: Because Gandalf said not to as he is afraid of Sauron intervening again and causing more trouble. But a good question I hope my answer makes sense.

QTpie: I laughed at basically all of Sam's little poems  
Llinos: Oh do come over to my LJ and write some – you might like it.

QTpie: Legolas can't see or speak but he can hear- is that right?  
Llinos: Glad to see you've been paying attention – you get a gold star!

Pearl Took: Have you visited my friend Pipkin Sweetgrass' stories? Or me for that matter?  
Llinos: I get so little time, but I will try to take a look soon. Meantime folks, here's the link – it looks like good stuff from the synopsises: http:**www.fanfiction.net*profile.php?userid=332185 and Pipkin Sweetgrass: http:**www.fanfiction.net*profile.php?userid=347947 (again change * for slashes)

Pearl Took: And the tension continues to build! Yes, I had caught that the Ring was being long distance nasty and that dearest Pip was losing it  
Llinos: Good, because it gets worse.

Sarah Sweetie: I have already said it in past reviews!  
Llinos: Oh but you can't say it enough you know!

Artemis-chan: I love it, except that things are getting all screwed up now.  
Llinos: Yes, sorry about that – but if you don't screw with things where's the fun?

Natta: Aw, poor Faramir...: p Merry and Pippin should be together.  
Llinos: Yes, both those things.

roadkill-writer: Oh my poor pip! I know he can look after himself but he's still only little after all.  
Llinos: Oh but how could anything happen to him with so many people to care for him? Hmm…

Samwise the Strong : I loved the beginning and the whole thing with Merry in the grasp of the circus guys.  
Llinos: Ah a new reader – welcome! Pull up a stool by the fire and stay awhile – it could be a long night.

Eldarin Queen: Are you gonna have Frodo destroy the Ring anytime soon?  
Llinos: Oh no – have you been reading ahead?

:): You always end these chapters WAY too soon  
Llinos: I know, but if I didn't end them somewhere you wouldn't get to read them.

Dear Reader: I admit -- I am a Faramir/Eowyn fan. And I love reading your portrayal of them. Keep up the good work!  
Llinos: Glad you like it – maybe I can interest you in a hobbit or two while you're here.

august wynd: but i do wanna congratulate you on your live journal  
Llinos: Not much there yet, but do stop by and say hello – pull up a poem and make yourself comfy.

Tasha: what am I saying?! There's just too *much* to say!  
Llinos: Oh Pip, but don't let that stop you! (Pip aka Tasha is my co-player in a Role Play which is very slashy and I play an Uruk – but a good one of course!) http:**lordsoftheslashed.com*forum*index.php?s=2c8f22949e0498028339253082070d2f&act=ST&f=25&t=156&st=0 

Marigold: snipped lots of really good stuff  
Llinos: A masterpiece in itself! Too much writing to choose one piece from – but go and read if you haven't because her reviews are often better than the story and save so much reading time. Oh and ff.net messed up and posted the same review twice so it even looks longer than it is.

quazar: i was introduced to this saga by a friend of mine in dublin, i think you know her.  
Llinos: Aha – that would be the elf lady! Mainframe aka Jen. Hi Jen! And welcome quazar – glad you like the story.

Baylor: Write, woman, write!  
Llinos: Okay.


	25. Balance of Power

Balance of Power 

Recaptured – Chapter 116 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

_'LEGOLAS! HEAR ME! HEAR MY VOICE! LEGOLAS GREENLEAF, ANSWER ME!'_

_'Pippin?'_

_'YOU KNOW IT IS NOT!'_

_'Where is Pippin? is what I meant.'_

_'HE IS SAFE, ARAGORN IS SITTING WITH HIM UNTIL HE AWAKES.'_

_'He is unconscious – is he not?'_

_'YES, YOU BOTH WERE.'_

_'You struck us with a bolt of your white energy – that was what made us lose our senses.'_

_'IT WAS WHAT SAVED YOU AND PIPPIN FROM THE NAZGÛL.'_

_'Nazgûl! It came! Tried to take Pippin. They think he is…'_

_'ENOUGH! WE SHALL NOT SPEAK OF THESE THINGS IN OUR MINDS! ARE YOU HURT IN ANY WAY?'_

_'No. Where is my little Pippin? I want to make sure he is not harmed – any further.'_

"Legolas, I know you resent the way I have coerced Pippin into believing he is the Ringbearer." Gandalf spoke out loud now that he knew the elf was conscious and could hear him. "But I never meant to harm him or Meriadoc, any more than I wished harm to Frodo or Sam and yet they are probably in even deeper peril."

_'I know – it's not – it's… where's Pip?'_

Gandalf could feel Legolas's confused feelings and emotions welling up inside the elf's psyche, there was so much turmoil that revolved around the frantic protective feelings he felt for Pippin and for Merry and his love and trust of Gandalf himself – feelings that were now in direct conflict with each other. Why had Gandalf betrayed Pippin so and put him in such terrible danger. But then the wizard felt Legolas reason with himself. Gandalf had asked the same of all of them. War was no time to allow some to be brave and others to wait on the sidelines. Gandalf had not expected for everything to go so wrong for Pippin, it was just ill fortune and bad luck that had been the hobbit's real enemy – that and the Dark Lord Sauron.

Gandalf felt Legolas relax a little under his healing hands and mind. Seldom did the wizard intervene in this way with any elf or mortal. But these were exceptional times and strange circumstances and, for Legolas in particular, he felt responsible.

"Come my friend," Gandalf now took the elf by the arm to help him to his feet and guide him. "I will take you to Pippin, he is with Aragorn and, I think, still not quite recovered from my bolt of white flame."

Legolas allowed himself to be led to Aragorn's tent, where the ranger was keeping half an eye's watch on the unconscious Pippin, who was laid on a heap of blankets in the corner. As the wizard and elf entered, Legolas's sharp ears heard the perian's grumble as he started to become aware again.

"What is? Oh no… falling down… not goned…where is… is We got?" As Aragorn turned and knelt down by the hobbit, he noticed that the first thing Pippin had done was to find and clutch the ring that was still hung about his neck and still causing stigmatic burn marks there.

"Pippin? Come, open your eyes, wake up little one!" Aragorn gently shook the restless hobbit. "You're safe here, look at me, Peregrin."

Pippin finally opened his eyes, but as soon as he saw the ranger so close to him, he drew his knees up and huddled into the corner, desperately searching around for some way to escape. His eyes came to rest on Gandalf and he choked with fright, wriggling further back into the canvass of the tent, looking frantically from the ranger to the wizard. "Not take It – you leave We alone now… We not got give It at you!"

"Calm down Pippin." Gandalf let go of Legolas as the elf made his way straight to the frightened hobbit. "See Legolas has come to see if you're all right, don't make him think we're being unkind to you."

"Legolas, they go try take It We Ring." Pippin whispered his suspicions to his concerned friend, catching a tight hold of the elf's wrist and pulling himself up and into the welcoming arms. "You not let they?"

Legolas let Pippin take refuge in his physical security, but he knew that Gandalf needed to make some kind of truce with the muddled hobbit, so he held his ground in the tent.

"Pippin," Gandalf took a step towards him, hoping that now the elf was there he might feel a little more trusting. "I want to make sure you're not hurt by the bolt of energy I used to protect you from the wraith. Let me see that you are all right."

"Not need touch We." Pippin kept carefully on the far side of Legolas. "We not feel hurted, not think We do." The hobbit let go of Legolas to pat his hands over his body, checking that he was still in one piece. "No not hurted We, Gandalf, thank you."

"Hmm, that's a good lad." Gandalf could not help feeling a slight pang at Pippin's fear of him. He had known Peregrin Took from his birth, had held him at his Welcomefest as Paladin was proclaimed Thain and his newborn son, heir to the Thainship. He had kept an eye on his progress over the years and the little hobbit had delighted in the wizard's tales and magic along with his cousins. Sometimes Gandalf had admonished him and dealt out punishments, although secretly admiring his forthright boldness and smiling at the strong strain of adventurous Took that had come out so strongly in the little lad. Now to have him cringe away from him and show outright fear of being touched by the kindly wizard, clenched the Istari's heart to the core, not the least because he knew he was to blame for the state the innocent hobbit was in. 

Gandalf tried again, bending his long frame to squat to hobbit eye level. "Tell me Pippin, why did you run out in the open like that when the wraith came? What were you trying to do?"

"Let he know We gotted Ring. You make We be Ringbearer, Gandalf, You want Dark Lord know We gotted Ring." Pippin was babbling almost incoherently and holding tightly to his precious ring as though it might be snatched from him at any moment.

Gandalf moved over to Aragorn, watching Pippin sidle further away from him as he did. He spoke quietly to the ranger. "There's something strange happening. I know you feel it too? It's as if Pippin's ring is growing somehow."

"I do sense it," Aragorn whispered back, "I am bound up with Sauron and the Ring because of my own heritage, there is great danger here. I think we should try to take it from him before it does any more damage?"

Gandalf nodded, "It's not going to be easy and will cause Pippin distress, but I do believe it will be for the best." They both moved towards the elf and hobbit slowly, trying not to alarm him or Legolas. "Pippin come here, Aragorn needs to take a look at your injuries, just to be sure you are not hurt badly."

"Don't be afraid, Pippin," Aragorn held out his hand, "Come along, you know I want only what is best for you, don't you?"

"Y-yes…" But in spite of the claim, Pippin still found himself backing away from the ranger.

Legolas turned his head from side to side, listening to what went on about him, unsure of what to do or whom to trust. He did not think that Aragorn meant to harm Pippin, but Pip seemed very afraid of him. But why had Pippin offered himself up to the Nazgûl? Perhaps his little friend really was losing his mind. The elf decided, real or imagined he should not let Pippin be frightened any further by either of his comrades.

Aragorn stepped forward swiftly now and caught hold of Pippin by the wrist and tried to draw him in to catch hold of his other arm. "Be still now, I need to make sure you were not injured when you were attacked."

Legolas paused only briefly but, sensing Pippin's almost panic at being trapped in the ranger's grasp, caught Aragorn's wrist in his own hand and wrenched it away from the hobbit. Pippin, suddenly freed, made a dash for the tent opening, only to run straight into Gandalf, who caught a tight hold of a small pointed ear, something he had done many times in the past.

"Yeow! Gandalf! Leggo We ears!" Pippin knew better than to struggle when the wizard had him by the ear, but he was terrified of what he was sure would happen.

"Pippin, this has gone far enough and for your own sake it has to stop now." Gandalf tried to reach for the ring, but the determined hobbit had it firmly in his little fist.

Aragorn pulled his wrist free and sidestepped Legolas, feinting to the left and then moving right to confuse the elf from following him too quickly. He stepped quickly over to Gandalf and captured Pippin's arms from behind with one hand while, with the other, prized open the clenched little fingers. As Pippin finally lost his grasp the ring dangled on the chain about his neck, making him wince as it caught on the scabs of the burn marks there. "Legolas! Help We!" He cried out in desperation as Gandalf let go of his ear and reached forward to take the ring from him.

Legolas was back on course and grabbed Aragorn from behind, his arm under the ranger's neck pulling his head backwards.

"In the name of Aulë!" Gimli, in search of Legolas, entered the tent at that moment. "What's going on?"

As Gandalf's fingers hovered over the shiny ring, his eyes locked with Pippin's and he suddenly found himself locked in a battle of wills. "Peregrin! Pippin… Please trust me. Just give me back the ring! I wish only to help you!"

"Not!" Pippin grit his teeth and frantically tried to escape Aragorn's grip, which the ranger was maintaining in spite of Legolas almost ripping his head off. All the while he glared back at Gandalf and ground through his clenched teeth, "not… not!" Pippin was concerned that he did not lose the Precious gold Ring that had somehow come to him, but he was even more troubled that no one else, especially Gandalf or Aragorn take it. He knew how It would corrupt either one of them.

Gimli tried to separate Legolas from Aragorn, although he was not too sure which of his companions actually needed help and which of them had gone barking mad.

Gandalf drew a deep breath and steeled himself. As his fingertips reached the offending piece of gold, a stab of pain jolted through his fingers and into his arm. He gasped at the power and malice that coursed through his body and realised it was practically the same sensation he had received when he had almost touched the One Ring in Bag End just after Bilbo had dropped it. Gandalf's eyes grew wide with disbelief and horror, "It cannot be!"

Pippin wasted no time in worrying about Gandalf's reaction. He remembered Boromir's lessons in self-defence, first weaken your opponent anywhere they are vulnerable and then do whatever they expect least. He stamped down on Aragorn's feet, one – two, finding his mark with both his heels, then kicked backwards as hard as he could.

Whether the hobbit had actually taken the ranger off guard or perhaps Aragorn was distracted by Legolas dragging on his neck and Gandalf's obvious distress over the ring, but whatever the reason, he let go of Pippin. 

But Gandalf was still at the door of the tent, between him and freedom. Pippin realised in that moment he was caught and only had one option left open to him if he was to escape with his Precious intact. He took the Ring from Its chain and slipped It on his finger.

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It was close now – too close. It could feel the Cracks of Doom where It had been forged! How could this be happening? Why was this stupid creature carrying on? It tried to talk to him, tried to tell him. You can have all and all will love You and obey You. You shall be above blame, above fear and above want. Nothing You desire will be denied. Choose wealth, long life, happiness and, most importantly, power as much as anyone could wish for. 

Think what You could do with power. You could do good. Make all Your folk happy and rich and long lived. Bring peace to all of Middle Earth. No more dissent, no more disputes, all would bow to You and You would dispense justice and retribution in equal and just measures. You would be Master – King – Supreme Ruler!

But he would not listen. He was not bound to Rule. He desired very little. Only It's destruction. That was all he could see.

It tried to talk to his companion, but he was a complex and difficult creature. He feigned dull wits and modesty, even to himself. But It knew him as he really was. A brave and noble warrior, with fierce loyalty that could overcome any adversity. It had spent a short time with him, but he had given It back! Unthinkable, freely and without mishap, just handed It back. It could not persuade this creature to steal It and claim It. 

A man! It needed a Man to claim It. They were full of pride and belief in their own importance. It could convince a man that He would rule. With a man It could make Its way back to Its true Master.

But what was this? Another, like the one that carried It. But this one was far away. That was good – far away from the Cracks of Doom, the place of beginning and ending. There was a golden thread, linking the two together, some elvish trick. It knew this one, remembered him from before. It had touched him and tried to persuade him to claim It, but he had been immature, not ready. Now he was grown, in so many ways. His mind was strong, his determination powerful! The little creature wanted It – believed He already had It. The form was right! The creature even had a facsimile of It around His neck. 

Carefully, It reached out, along the golden thread, a tenuous connection was made! Slowly, delicately It seeped a little of Its power, Its energy, into the Other. It stayed! The transfer had worked. Its own weight grew a little less as more and more of Its strength travelled along the golden thread and embedded Itself in the Other.

The Other grew stronger, pulsing Its energy around and around. Feeling Its way into the heart and mind of the creature that carried It. Burning into the creature's neck to make Its physical presence felt.

The golden thread weakened and the transfer became harder. The energy was being dissipated as the link grew more distant, harder to find. 

Then there was a surge! A magical bolt from some ancient source had surrounded the creature and the link was there again but much wider. Power flooded from the One to the Other, making Its escape. The power would be halved, but at least some would survive.

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"You don't know where he's gone?" Théoden stalked around to the back of the two Riders who remained stiffly at attention, eyes to the front, as their King kept up a relentless barrage of questions. Dysgwr the healer stood silently by, watching the two who had stolen his patient from under his nose being made to confess their deeds. "And yet you were observed collecting up Peregrin's discarded clothes. Now what could you possibly want those for?"

"Erum, Meriadoc had requested them, my Lord." Drâmym knew that was not strictly true, but Merry had wanted the clothes. "We assumed he wished to have some keepsake of his cousin's."

"This is would be your chief concern at the moment? Collecting memorabilia for sick halflings?" Théoden's tone was rich with irony, a bad sign the two Riders knew.

"We thought it might cheer him a little," Ŭnomer ventured. "Speed his recovery."

"And where pray where you going when you begged leave of me and this House yesterday noon?" Théoden's guards were generally bound to stay close to their King.

"As we said Lord," Drâmym bit his lip before the lie, "We went to Rath Celerdain to secure lodgings in the event this House is filled with…"

"Really Drâmym," Théoden interrupted the Rider quickly, "I watched you leave and saw that you did not go in that direction." The King shook his head in dismay, "Do you not recall that I dwelt long in this City and know it as well as I know my own Halls at Edoras. You were headed for the stables on the sixth level, were you not?"

"Yes Lord." Drâmym admitted. He had indeed momentarily forgotten that the King of Rohan had in fact grown up in Gondor. "To secure steeds for Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir."

"Why could they not have selected their own horses?" Théoden already knew the answer to this question. "I suppose my niece had no hand in Meriadoc's untimely disappearance?" The King walked back round to the front of the two men, turning suddenly to glare into Drâmym's face. "Do not tell me Éowyn had naught to do with this!"

"My Lord, how could we deny such a noble spirit?" Drâmym realised the time for prevarication was past. "Merry was emphatic in his need to accompany the Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir was also a party to his escape."

"I suspect they could not have managed it without your collusion though." Dysgwr interrupted, turning from his investigation of the cupboard in Merry's bedchamber. "I saw to it that Meriadoc had no clothes in which to go travelling. He is very sick, do you not realise how ill he is?"

"We're truly sorry." Ŭnomer said plaintively. "We wished only to help, not to harm Meriadoc, he is our friend."

"I know you did not intend harm." Théoden softened for a moment. "But you may have caused much damage. Not just to Meriadoc, but to the whole campaign. Master Dysgwr had been dosing Merry with a special potion to keep him still."

"You mean my Lord, so that he did not aggravate his injury?" Drâmym had not considered that Merry's life might be at stake if he undertook the journey. "I am sorry I did not think."

Dysgwr had been watching the exchange, as he was the one who has alerted Théoden in the first place. "He is still very weak, the wound is not healed and he has lost much blood, but that is not the only reason. Mithrandir made it quite clear before he left." Dysgwr drew a deep breath. He had been very careful to carry out the wizard's order. "He told me that Merry was under no circumstances to leave here, especially not to follow Peregrin."

"We did not know." Drâmym still looked straight ahead, still at attention. "Did he say why?"

"I will tell you why." Théoden realised now he should probably have explained it to these two before. "Mithrandir is using Peregrin as bait for the Dark Lord. Yes I know." Théoden waved his hand down as he could see his men about to protest at this treatment of the youngster. "But Peregrin agreed to do this deed, and the wizard himself is a match for a Nazgûl and he will be with Peregrin to guard him."

"So how does that affect Merry?" Ŭnomer still did not see the connection.

"The Dark Lord will send his Nazgûl out in search of a halfling. All the clues have been given to Him that His tool for victory – the One Ring – lies in the hands of a halfling." Théoden paused as the realisation started dawn upon the riders, "Merry is virtually unguarded, both Éowyn and Lord Faramir are still recovering from their own injuries, and he is therefore vulnerable. And if they take him, he knows the true whereabouts of the Ring. In his present condition it is doubtful he will be able to conceal that truth."

"My Lord, we are so sorry," Drâmym spoke for both of them. "We never intended… we did not realise, the damage we were doing."

"What can we do Théoden King?" Ŭnomer asked dropping to one knee before his Monarch, "Command us and we shall ride even unto death."

"You may well yet." Théoden said grimly. "You will ride at once, after Merry in the hope you may protect him." He then nodded to Dysgwr, "I think you had better take Master Healer with you too. Once you find him, Merry will need some extra looking after no doubt."

"You want me – to ride a horse?" Dysgwr's jaw dropped open, he had barely ever left the City of Minas Tirith, let alone sat astride a fiery steed. "I can't ride!"

"Do not worry," Drâmym clamped a comradely hand on the healer's shoulder, "Ŭnomer and I will be happy to teach you."

***********************************************************************************************************

At their Lord's command the eight remaining Nazgûl flew from Mordor. They were searching for the halfling. It would ride from Minas Tirith, this they were told and it carried the One Ring. 

Khamul the Shadow of the East, Sauron's lieutenant in Dol Guldur, scoured the terrain from the back of his winged mount. The creature they sought would be somewhere between Minas Tirith and the Gate of Mordor. It may be at the head of a great army or perhaps with just a small escort. It was essential that they find it, so much depended on the One Ring.

***********************************************************************************************************

Merry snuggled up against Éowyn, his eyes closed and her cloak drawn around him. They had been riding for five hours with a few scant rests for the horses and planned to carry on for just another half an hour before making a camp. Éowyn leaned back a little so that Merry would not fall. She could not hold him on the mare properly as she was already riding one handed, although she let that arm encompass the hobbit to provide a little support for him, particularly when she realised that he had fallen asleep.

Faramir watched how intimately the two rode and kept trying to remind himself that their relationship was one of comrades and, when that failed to completely quell the feelings that nagged at him to see the halfling nestled in Éowyn's embrace, tried to persuade his jealousy that she was acting as a mother would to a child.

_'Certainly_,' the man thought, _'Merry had all the outward appearance of a child, but_,' his envious heart muttered to him, _'he's not, is he? He has seen thirty six summers and is old enough to wed, even in hobbit terms.'_

"Would you like me to carry Merry for a while?" Faramir knew he was being ridiculous, but at least if the hobbit rode with him it would spare Éowyn the stress upon her broken limb, at least that was the reason he would admit to.

"No, he's sleeping," Éowyn said the words just loud enough to be heard without waking her tired out comrade. "I think the journey has proved a little much for him. Merry has a tenacious and determined will, but his injuries are telling on him."

"Perhaps we should rest now," Faramir suggested. "Then Merry can sleep without being jolted so much."

"He's really quite comfortable," Éowyn could feel Merry's regular breathing against her chest as his sleep became deeper. "And so am I."

"So I see." Faramir could not help sounding a little put out and haughty with his last remark. Éowyn did look very comfortable with the hobbit resting snugly on her breast, as did Merry in his slumber. The only person who was not comfortable was him, but he could hardly say that.

"I expect the horses are tired though." Éowyn could see Faramir was disappointed with her reaction for some reason. "Let us make camp here, there are some trees nearby, we all have to rest at some stage."

They drew their mounts up at the little copse and Faramir carefully lifted Merry down from Gaseg-Wen and laid him, still sleeping, under a tree in the mossy loam, covering him with a blanket from a bedroll. Éowyn unsaddled both horses and Gaseg-Wen nuzzled up to Ceffyl-Ddu as they started to graze their way around the little wood.

Éowyn and Faramir soon made themselves comfortable and sat beside Merry watching the horses wander about in obvious pleasure at being given some proper grazing after spending time in the stables of Minas Tirith. "They seem to like each other," Faramir commented absent-mindedly. "Do you think they're in love?"

"I think they are just two companions who have found themselves on a quest together." Éowyn had lifted Merry's head into her lap to make him more comfortable. "Just as we are."

Faramir sighed wondering if she was referring to Merry or to him. "How is the little one?" He asked peering over at Merry's sleeping features. "Should you not wake him? Maybe he should eat."

"Yes, I was thinking that too." Éowyn smoothed the hobbit's hair out of his face, "he looks so peaceful." She patted his cheek a little to rouse him. "Merry? Merry, wake up, you should eat something."

Merry stirred and his eyes opened blearily, smiling up at Éowyn in that first comfortable, waking moment. "I'm sorry, Éowyn," he murmured, "have I been sleeping long?"

"Not too long," she helped him to sit up, "but you should eat something. Here, we have bread that's fairly fresh and cheese and some dried apple."

"Thank you Milady," Merry helped himself to the proffered food, "I feel so tired, I don't understand why."

"Perhaps the journey will prove too much for you Merry," Faramir suggested. "Maybe we were hasty in abetting your escape."

"Well it's too late to worry about that now." Éowyn pointed out. "He can hardly go back on his own and we're not turning about."

"I think it might be the potion I took before I made good my escape." Merry drew a bottle from his inside coat pocket. "It's what Dysgwr was giving me and I thought it might be important, so I stole the bottle and took some on my own."

Éowyn took the bottle, uncorking it to sniff at the contents. "Merry this is a mixture of glaslichen and, I think, opium, it is very soporific, that's why you are feeling so sleepy. How much did you take?"

"I don't know exactly," Merry shrugged. "I just drank some from the bottle, it seemed like the same amount Dysgwr gives me."

"But he may water it down," Faramir pointed out. "You should take care, you might be having too much."

"If Dysgwr was giving it to you I don't suppose there can be any harm." Éowyn decided. "Perhaps it is for the best. It will certainly dull the pain of the wound."

"Oh yes," Faramir recalled the request for the narcotic just after he had met Merry and Pippin for the first time. "I remember you halflings have quite a taste for opium if I'm not mistaken."

"Hmm," Merry took the bottle back from Éowyn, sniffing at the contents himself. "Now you come to mention it I do remember that odour, but it was Pippin that tended to enjoy the stuff more than I."

"Perhaps you should continue to take it." Éowyn suggested. "Although measure it carefully Merry and try to take a little less next time. You do not know what damage you might do to yourself if you sleep for so long."

Merry had slept for far longer than even Éowyn realised. Almost as soon as Gaseg-Wen fell into a comfortable trot, his head had nodded forward and he dozed quietly, still held upright by his own posture. While the Nazgûl flew overhead he slept, buried inside Éowyn's cloak, his mind still and isolated. He slept as the servants of Sauron carried on to find Pippin and attempted to pick him up from the camp of Aragorn's army. He slept while Legolas and then Gimli fought the Shadow of the East away from their comrade and even when Gandalf dismissed the Nazgûl lord with the Flame of Udûn. 

Even as Pippin awoke and fought against Gandalf and Aragorn, still Merry had slept peacefully, his mind fogged and untroubled.

***********************************************************************************************************

"Pippin!" Gimli swung his head from side to side as if searching for something. "Where did he go?"

"What do you mean Gimli?" Aragorn furrowed his brow in question. "Gandalf has him."

Gandalf turned sharply to the dwarf. "What are you saying Gimli? Do you see Pippin? Tell me quickly!"

"No." Gimli shrugged his shoulders. "You were trying to get hold of him and then he just disappeared."

"Pippin!" Gandalf shook the struggling hobbit quite hard. "Take it off! Now!"

"Not go give It at you!" Pippin insisted trying to pull away from Gandalf firm grasp on his wrist. "You not got have It – please Gandalf, please! You not knowed what It do at you! It break you in pieces and make you bad. Not be Pippin's wizard more. Please not take It, please!"

Gandalf relaxed his grip a little and bent down to Pippin's eye level. The swirling colours in the bright green eyes took him aback for a moment, as did the almost transparent look to the pale skin. "Listen Peregrin," the wizard's voice softened as he tried to relax the panic he was actually feeling. "I won't take It. I'll not even touch It, I can't, I promise you. Just take It off, for me, please Pippin."

Legolas dropped his hold on Aragorn and moved swiftly to Pippin whose struggles were growing weaker and less determined. He took him by the shoulders, obviously able to clearly see the hobbit, making Gandalf release his hold. Legolas looked into Pippin's eyes with a desperate plea clearly visible in his blue blindness.

"Legolas!" Pippin looked up at Gandalf. "He go see We – don't he? Legolas go see Pippin."

"Yes lad," Gandalf nodded slowly. "Take it off Pippin, take it off before they find you."

"Ohh!" Pippin gave a small gasp, suddenly afraid of the enormity of the dreadful situation he was in. "Taked it off Pippin's fingers. But not go take it from We." Pippin pulled the Ring from his finger and heard the palpable sigh of relief that went around the small tent. 

"Where did ye go young Pip?" Gimli broke an awkward silence. "Where did he go?" The dwarf looked wonderingly up at Gandalf, who just shook his head but did not reply; too drained for the moment to find the words. 

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N 

Amazing results on the stats this time. So far (and I've been careful not to click on the story myself to distort the numbers) at the time of writing this, 290 people have clicked onto chapter 24! (or one person has clicked on it 290 times!) That's getting close to 300. But then again 28 people took the time to review, which is marvellous and I thank you all, especially as between you, you wrote 3,600 words! Almost as long as the chapter itself (5,747 words). Me obsessed with statistics? Well all right – it's a fair cop Guv!

In other news – I am planning to re-write (have already re-written and will soon be posting) chapters 1 & 2 – 3 will follow shortly and will be very different as I shall remove the slash. 

This resulted from a consultation I had with beta extraordinaire Ms Marigold. She has put it on her Best Bets recommendations on Baylor's website and there were a few warnings there about suitability that made me go back and re-read the beginning. Chapters 1 and 2 I'm changing simply because I don't think they are well written and chapter 3 because it's really not suitable for all ages and not really in keeping with the rest of the story.

This means that there will soon be an all new chapter 3, with a little vignette of Merry and Pippin's childhood, which will be based on a plot bunny Marigold threw me in the first place. 

Sooo, anyone who wants the slash in chapter 3 go and download it now as it will soon be gone!

The plot thickens, it's getting like Bloggin's stew, filled with bits from all over the place and rather scary. Will Pippin have to destroy the Half Ring? Or will Merry save the day? Perhaps Gollum should have tried Pip's tactics, much easier than stalking hobbits in Mordor – or is it? We shall see!

Heddwch!

Llinos

Okay – chat time!

nitedancer: But didn't Eowyn make the shirt for Merry  
Marigold: Well spotted and remembered. Gold star for you.   
Llinos: Thanks for your alertness – I changed it at once. (Smacks Marigold with stickses for a change.) Perhaps I should slip a deliberate mistake in every time to make shy people review! Not that this one was deliberate – I blame decaying memory cells.

Dear Reader: But of course! I love the hobbits!  
Llinos: Of course – silly me! What's not to love! Glad you like F&E too.

Kookaburra: I'm just loving the orc bits we're getting - how do you write them so well?  
Llinos: By practising on Moria's Revenge – which reminds me…

Xena: Ah, this was quite an eventful/scary chapter  
Llinos: And things are not improving

Brenda: because I've actually reviewed several times in recent history, but you didn't acknowledge them.  
Llinos: I never ignore anyone – especially if they come bearing reviews – just call me Groll!

Brenda: Yes more people do read than actually review.  
Llinos: From the numbers it seems to be around 10% of people reviewing, which I guess is not too bad. But now you other 262 people – I know you're out there!

august wynd: always knew he had the potential to be insane but it took you to bring it out in him of course  
Llinos: I like to bring out the best in people – and hobbits.

Pearl Took: I love Merry kissing Éowyn's fingers.  
Llinos: I always thought they could be sweet together – not much fun for Faramir tho!

Eldarin Queen: But why are you letting Pippin get so bad so fast. I dont remember it going so quickly with Frodo.  
Llinos: Ah but he was not under as much pressure and stress as Pippin is – Frodo was straight from the Shire, but see what Pip has been through and now he has all this responsibility thrust on him and he doesn't even have Merry with him and now poor Legolas can't even speak. At least Frodo has Sam.

Eldarin Queen: I hope you dont mind that i added you to my list(small list) of friends.  
Llinos: Delighted – I have reciprocated. Feel free to "friend" me people – I never say no to a friend. My LJ addy is in my profile.

Siah: Mr Smagnud. Cant wait for him to meet up with the lil pips friends.  
Llinos: They're bound to collide at some point.

Samwise the Strong: And how many near death experiences is Merry gonna have. LOL.  
Llinos: Dunno – how many would you like?

Samwise the Strong: please, please don't make Merry and pippin gay.  
Llinos: Okay.

Mistoffelees: snips strange little sub-plot by Mistoffelees with Legolas killing Pippin  
Llinos: I'm not sure this is the way I want to go with the story, but thanks for the plot bunny.

sam: I don't get what Pip is doing. Is he trying to get caught by the Wraith or is he going to try to go to Mount Doom? And if he is going to Mount Doom, why get on the rocks to show himself to the Wraith?  
Llinos: Pip's plan (which is in an earlier chapter) was to get the wraith to take him and then force him with the power of the Ring (which of course Pip thinks is real) to take him instead to Mount Doom. It probably was a bad plan, but Pip isn't thinking too clearly at the moment. Here's the bit from Chapter 115 Complications:- _He had fought with the Dark Lord! He could do it! He would wait for the Nazgûl to come and take Him as before. Then He would use the Ring to command them to take Him to Mount Doom, where He would destroy the Ring!_

camilliatook: Marigold tells me you like the name LLinaburra.  
Llinos: Kooks and I are highly honoured!

Lindelea: Hm. Merry at the Black Gate? I hear that might possibly happen in the ROTK movie as well, though it is only a rumour as far as I know  
Llinos: It's only a rumour in Recap as well!

Gayalondiel: I did in fact lose the One Ring that my boyfriend got me last year - I think it's somewhere in central London!  
Llinos: Oh I'll keep my eyes open for it then.

:): Is that a snippit for the future?  
Llinos: Possibly – ho hum de de… walks off with innocent face not committing herself.

Tasha: Ack! You're ending the chapter *there*!  
Llinos: Well every chapter has to end somewhere Pip, besides I need to get back to my slashy RPG! If anyone is interested in reading the further adventures of Nagash (me) Pippin (Tasha) Merry (Ginger) and Sam (Kooks) let me know and I'll give you the link. They melt if you post them in here (The links, not the hobbits.)

Natta: Oh no, what's happening to Pippin?  
Llinos: I'm being mean to him – isn't that what you wanted?

Pixie Sugar Stix: Words cannot describe the amazement you've struck into my soul.  
Llinos: Yay! Thanks Sugar! (May I call you Sugar?) 

gillian: Weeks of driving around aimlessly in mountains-wondering if I would ever get home  
Llinos: Now you know how Frodo and Sam feel.

Marigold: Yay! I am so glad to be getting back in reviewer mode  
Llinos: And I'm so glad you're in it! A review from Marigold is like a six course dinner, never ending and totally delicious! Also your interpretations often help me to understand the story better – so it probably helps other readers too.

Sarah Sweetie: YAY...i went to mexico...  
Llinos: And YAY! You came back again!

QTPie: ...it's creepy how the Ring can have such a hold on his long-distance.  
Llinos: It's actually in a state of panic – probably having an adrenaline rush – due to the imminent threat of destruction. Of course if it weren't for the mindlinks it would never have found such a way out – let's hear it for AU's!

meatball: Gandalf should have stolen the Nazgûls steed while he was off of it and gone to Mordo and picked up Frodo and Sam and taken them to Mount Doom and dropped the Ring in!  
Llinos: Nice plan – but it would have cut the story a bit short!

Baylor: You have a lot of balls flying through the air here, Ms. Juggler,  
Llinos: I'm relying on Marigold to catch them, (then if she drops one I can blame her Mwahhah!)

FantasyFan: I hesitated to jump into your story at chapter 100 or so - I thought it would be too much work  
Llinos: I'm glad that you did and I'm glad that you kept reading. I have just re-read the beginning myself and am in the process of re-writing the first three chapters. I shall be removing the slash from chapter 3, as I now see it as somewhat jarring with the rest of the story and there will be something else altogether in there now and not at all X-rated.  
FantasyFan: snips amazing long and wonderful review  
Llinos: Thanks for your detailed insights – really enjoyed reading them – I love all the reviews and especially when people manage to show me some aspect that I have not noticed. In particular I liked your comment,   
FantasyFan: "Ah, Elven reflexes. it is quite a contrast to the stumbling, isolated blind Merry."  
Llinos: You're right – I did think about this and decided that an elf would not be so handicapped without his sight due to superior senses generally. But it was a nice comparison to make.

Till next time – take care and keep safe

Llinos


	26. Truce

Truce

Recaptured – Chapter 118 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Is this the smallest one you have?" Dysgwr looked nervously up at the great steed pawing at the straw covered stable floor and snorting rather abruptly every so often. "I don't think it likes the looks of me. Have you got a quieter one?"

"Oh but this is a fine mount, Master Healer, he will carry you without trouble." Drâmym looked a little depreciatingly at Dysgwr's well-covered frame. He was not exactly fat, not in the way a hobbit might call someone fat, but his body was not in the prime of lean, sinewy boyhood either. "A lesser horse might weary too soon for the journey we have."

"But I'm not even sure how you get on," Dysgwr had been protesting the necessity for him to ride a horse ever since King Théoden had first ordered him to go after Merry. "Where are the steps?"

"I think I saw an old mounting block just outside," Ŭnomer offered, "But I could give you a leg-up if that would help."

"A leg-up? A leg-up!" Dysgwr ruffled his tunic and adjusted his second best cloak. He was not used to travel of any sort, but this riding on the back of a horse was not the method of transportation he would have chosen under any circumstances. He was anxious to try and maintain as much of his dignity as possible. "I would prefer to use the steps if you don't mind."

"The problem with a mounting block my friend," Drâmym drew a patient breath, "Is that it's a little difficult to always make it available." It was totally alien to the two Rohirric Riders, who had been sat upon their first mounts almost as soon as they could walk, that anyone would have difficulty getting on a horse. Even little Merry, although lacking in stature and blind, had not flinched at being hauled up into the saddle and, once there, had sat quite at ease either on the pillion or wedged before the pommel. "Are you sure Ŭnomer can't just give you a leg-up?"

"Oh dear," Dysgwr realised he was going to have to trust these two horsemen to get him to his truant patient as the King had ordered. It was most aggravating! Merry was a biddable creature for the most part and always polite, but Dysgwr could not help but notice that both the halflings had a tenacious and determined tendency that could be the death of them – or him for that matter. "I suppose I had best try to climb up then. A leg-up, as you put it, would probably help."

Drâmym manoeuvred himself behind Dysgwr and showed the man where to put his hands. "Lift your leg and let Drâmym help you up then," Ŭnomer suggested. "No! The other one! Other leg I mean!" The two Rohirrim exchanged glances – this was not going to be easy. Ŭnomer held the horse's bridle whilst Drâmym cupped both hands around Dysgwr's knee and heaved. The healer eventually managed to swing his leg over the broad back and ended up sitting nervously astride the great stallion. 

The riders would have preferred to have put the healer aboard a mare, but none were left. Nevertheless this was a fine animal, a beautiful chestnut by the name of Diawl-Goch* and gentle enough if you knew his ways. Unfortunately Dysgwr did not know one end of a donkey from the other, let alone begin to understand a noble creature such as this.

Drâmym slowly led the horse and rider from the stall, urging Dysgwr to take up the reins gently. "Just try to feel his mouth and make a little contact with the bridle, he has a leverage bit," Drâmym explained. "Don't pull him about. You should be able to guide him using your legs. No! don't squeeze. That's better, you won't fall, just let the horse do the work, he knows his business."

Holding on tentatively to the reins, but with both hands still clutching the pommel, Dysgwr sat aboard safely enough as the two riders walked him through the city to the road by the ruined gates. Many heads turned as they went, those that were left in Minas Tirith now were anxious and wary and a sight such as this was unusual at the best of times. 

As they gained the outer wall Drâmym collected their own horses, tethered to graze in the shelter between the wall and the first ditch, where a little green was to be found. They left the healer sitting nervously on Diawl Goch as they readied and mounted their own steeds. "Don't try to steer him, Master Dusgy," Drâmym could not quite get his tongue around the foreign name. "Just try and sit as comfortably as possible , keep your heels down and hold on tight. The horse will follow us, or should do, if not we'll put him on a lead rein."

"Hmm," Dysgwr said nothing, but he was beginning to get a little aggravated at being bossed around by these two ignorant horsemen. They could not even manage to say his name properly and yet here they were trying to give him lessons in riding. How difficult could it be? If these hoi polloi fellows could do it, he was sure a man of his intelligence and education could manage it.

The two riders flanked the healer and his mount and urged their horses forward, causing Diawl Goch to start a little trot. Dysgwr grew bold as he felt the rhythm of the horse under him and he took up the slack in the reins so that he could be more in control of the beast. This wasn't so hard!

As Diawl Goch felt the pull on the bridle, his sensitive mouth twitched and he nodded his head sharply forward. The unexpected tug on the reins panicked Dysgwr slightly and the man lurched forward, then, as he thought he might fall, he sat back heavily in the saddle and squeezed tightly with both legs to keep his balance.

Diawl Goch needed no further instructions and broke into a canter, his head down and his spirit high. He had been stabled for several days now and a good run was just what he needed. Dysgwr gave up all pretence of being able to rein the horse in and fell forward with both arms frantically hugged around the creature's neck, wailing for help.

Drâmym and Ŭnomer exchanged but a glance and naught else. Wordlessly they struck out in a semi-circle either side of their quarry so as not to encourage Diawl Goch to greater speed and, silently urging their own horses to their best, managed to match and then overtake the errant horse and healer. Ŭnomer veered the pair round to the side so that Drâmym could catch hold of the bridle and finally halt the runaway.

"A little too fast there I think Master Dusgy." Drâmym waited for Dysgwr to get his breath. The man was still holding tightly around Diawl Goch's neck, breathing fast and raggedly and muttering incoherent curses upon all beasts of burden, Riders of Rohan and halflings. "Would you like to try that again?"

*Red Devil

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"Where is It? No! Give It back! Arrrgghh ohh!"

"What's the matter? Mr Frodo! What's wrong?" Sam shook his master into full wakefulness. He had been worried about him sleeping so deeply in the first place, especially with that bruise on his poor head. "No one's here – only your Sam."

"No! Get back, don't touch It. What do you think you're doing?" Frodo rolled over, the elven cloak tangling around him and trapping his arms. He fought his way out of the covering, backing away from Sam on hands and feet, then grabbed frantically at the Ring around his neck.

"Nothing. It's all right Frodo, my dear." Sam lifted his hands up into the air, palms open. "I haven't touched anything and I've not got anything." He put his hands down and reached forward, "You were just dreaming I don't doubt. A bad dream, that's all."

"It was a terrible dream, Sam." Frodo sighed and sniffed a little, slightly embarrassed at getting so defensive with poor dear Samwise. "I felt as if a thief had come while I slept and stolen away half my soul and left me to wander forever, searching for the lost part of me. Do you think that's possible Sam?"

"I don't know Mr Frodo, it don't sound like the kind of thing you want to happen. The Ring is still there." Sam was certain that Gollum would not have got past him and he had watched over Frodo the whole time he had slept. "Isn't It?"

"Yes, Sam," Frodo lifted the shining circle of gold out of his shirt and held It out to show his anxious protector. "We still have it all to do!"

"It's just that… I don't know." Sam scratched his head and furrowed his brow. "Something seems wrong – you seem wrong. Not that I'm grumbling mind, but you seem a little lighter, as if you were not weighed down so much." Sam frowned now. He should not be complaining about Frodo seeming less careworn, but he had an uneasy feeling about it. "And that Ring – I dunno, It looks a bit… a bit well… less shiny somehow."

"I know Sam, I feel the same." Frodo scooped the Ring back inside his shirt; he mostly kept It out of sight now, especially since Sam had given It back to him. "It's becoming lighter to carry, and… and that should please me, but it does not. Instead I feel hollow, drained. I don't know what's happening Sam, but there's something else. **_Someone_** else!"

"How do you mean Mr Frodo?" Sam could not keep the edge of panic from his voice as he looked anxiously about, expecting to see that wretched Slinker at any moment. "Did you see someone?"

"No, it's not the seeing, Sam," Frodo lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's the hearing. It's Pippin! I hear him in my head still."

"Oh but you mustn't!" Sam looked fearfully up at the sky, as if a Nazgûl would swoop down upon them that very instant. "Remember what Mr Merry told me? It'll give you away."

"I know Sam," Frodo spoke quietly but urgently, "I don't talk to him, it's just hard to ignore him. He's so sure that the Ring is with him now Sam, he is behaving even more strangely."

"Well I don't see as how we can do much to help him?" Sam could see how distressed poor Frodo was at the thought of young Master Peregrin in trouble. "Perhaps Mr Merry will be able to find him again. Or mayhap you can talk to him in your head once all this is done."

"No Sam," Frodo caught hold of his faithful companion's arm, squeezing it tightly in his anxiety. "It's worse! You see I think Pippin's right. The Ring, or at least half of It's power, has gone to him! That is why it has become less of a burden!"

"That can't be! Mr Frodo, how could that happen? It makes no sense!" Sam suddenly felt very territorial about the Ring himself, knowing he would fight anyone who tried to take It from his master. "Pippin must not take the Ring from you! I'll not let him!"

"Sam, Sam," Frodo kept his grip on Sam's arm, "You can't stop him with force. It's the power of the Ring that is changing. Moving to a Ring that Pip carries. It wants to go, It needs to try and avoid destruction. But don't you see what this means Sam?"

"That Master Pippin is trying to steal the Ring from you?"

"No, Sam," Frodo let go of Sam's arm and slumped back against the overhanging rock he was sitting under. "It means that the Ring has divided Its power in two and that both halves will now have to be destroyed."

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"Merry you can rest against me. Try to sleep if you can, it will ease the journey for you." Éowyn was increasingly worried about Meriadoc. He had taken hardly any of the medicine he had lifted from Dysgwr since he realised what it was. Initially the glaslichen had masked the taste of the opium but once Merry recognised it, the memory of Barad-dûr and his suicide pact with Pippin came flooding back, suddenly making the drug distasteful and unwarranted in the hobbit's eyes. 

However, the drug had been serving to keep much of the pain from his wound at bay and without it Merry was in constant and increasing agony. He was also far more wide-awake as the narcotic affect wore off too. He leaned back against Éowyn with a small groan, the pain too great to conceal now. Éowyn winced too as the hobbit's extra weight against her put pressure on her injured arm. Merry did not see, but Faramir did.

"Milady, should we not take some rest? We have covered a good distance today and the horses I think tire somewhat." Faramir knew it was no good suggesting that Éowyn was weary. "Or at least allow me to carry Merry for a while." This second suggestion he knew would be refused, but he could see that both were in pain and he should try to alleviate that as best he could.

Éowyn was about to answer quickly that she was not in any difficulty, but bit her tongue. Faramir had been filled with courtly manners ever since they had first met and she felt a little patronised by that but said nothing as she knew it was unbecoming to overtly reject such gallantry. But this was different. They were now companions in adventure, just as she and Legolas, or indeed Merry, had been and she realised that his concern was not just politeness, but important advice that she should heed.

"You are right Captain," Éowyn reined in Gaseg Wen and slowed to a walk. "Where shall we rest?"

They founded a camp by the little tributary that runs down from the falls of Henneth Annûn to join the mighty Anduin. Faramir made a small fire and sat Merry before it, wrapping his own blanket about the hobbit to make him more comfortable. Éowyn smiled at her companion's care and wondered if it were for Merry's benefit or for hers, then decided she was becoming far too cynical, especially as Faramir seemed most concerned for the hobbit's welfare, crouching down before him so as not to tower over him – Éowyn knew that Merry hated that – and offering him a drink from his own bottle. She noticed for the first time that her own clothing had become stained, probably with Merry's blood and suddenly it seemed to matter to her very much that she looked pleasing. Was Faramir having this effect on her? The Lady would not concern herself now with the why of it. She had a clean bodice in her pack and took it with her to the edge of the rivulet to wash as much as modesty allowed and change her soiled clothing.

But as Éowyn went to unlace her garment she found to her dismay that the ties had become knotted and tangled and try as she might, with one hand it was impossible to undo the strings. She considered briefly that a knife would be the answer and that cutting through the laces would be expedient if destructive. But, the thought that she had no other changes of clothing with her and that she could at the least wash this bodice in case the new one became dirty, changed her mind again. 

However, the only other way to remove the garment would be to ask one of her companions to help. Éowyn blushed slightly at the thought. After all, they were both male, but as she tingled with her private embarrassment she realised it had to be Merry that helped her. Had Legolas been there she would not have hesitated to request his help. They had formed a comfortable alliance and treated each other with the respect of true colleagues and partners in adventure. Merry now occupied the same position. No, more so since their sharing of mind and being and Éowyn was perfectly comfortable with the thought of her dear soul mate assisting her with her personal toilet. 

But Faramir! What would he think? This is what made her blush. She would not have considered asking for his help in such an intimate matter, but how would he feel about Merry helping to unlace her bosom?

Well there was nothing to be done for it. She must change and she could not do so alone.

Éowyn walked purposefully back to the little encampment. "Merry? How are you now?" She knelt at his side and put a soothing hand to his forehead. He seemed weary and not very aware of his surroundings. "How is he?" She looked up at Faramir.

"A little sleepy I think," Faramir nodded toward the bottle of medicine by Merry's side. "I persuaded him to take a little more relief from his supply. He was in some discomfort."

"Oh." Éowyn picked up the bottle and held it up to see how much was gone. Then turned back to Merry again, "Merry! Are you asleep? Merry!"

"Surely it would be best to let him sleep?" Faramir frowned, curious at her insistence on getting the little one's attention. "He seems most peaceful and out of pain now."

"Yes – it would," Éowyn felt her face flush a little. "But I need his – um assistance with something."

"Perhaps I could help?" Faramir was always ready to do all he could for the beautiful Lady who had won his heart. "I'm sure I am equal to all that Merry could do. Unless of course it involves mind talking and then I fear I may fail you."

"No! Éowyn let slip her silvery little laugh. "Nothing so demanding. I merely need a little private assistance with my – um lacings. And I thought Merry would…" She stopped, realising that Faramir was looking at the ground, obviously feeling awkward now at his offer of help. "Perhaps if you could wake Merry, I only need his help for a moment."

It made no real sense. Why should Merry help her over him? Faramir pondered the question for a moment or two and then realised that he actually felt quite comfortable about her choice. If she had not been so coy about asking him, it would have meant that she had no special feelings for him at all! "Merry?" Faramir gently roused the hobbit. "Could you assist Éowyn?"

Merry drowsily opened his eyes and looked up at Faramir with a vague smile. "What is it? What must I do?"

"Um Lady Éowyn has need of your assistance." Faramir stepped aside and sauntered tactfully away from the little river to assure his companions of privacy.

"Merry, could you unlace me?" Éowyn knelt before the hobbit again and indicated the tangled strings on her bodice. "I seem to have got in a bit of a muddle."

"Oh, of course Milady." Merry, a bit sleepy still, looked at the sight of Éowyn's corset in front of him and then refocused on the knotted laces instead, shaking his head slightly as he did so. Carefully he teased the tightly pulled strings apart, using only his uninjured hand, his nimble hobbit fingers were still agile at the task, although, without thinking several times he caught hold of a knot in his teeth as he pried it loose with his fingertips. Realising suddenly what he had done, he looked up at Éowyn and giggled a little, "Begging your pardon Milady." 

Éowyn smiled back, "That's all right Merry, I've tended to you enough times. I think we know each other well enough by now."

"Yes," Merry agreed, "Except I don't suppose I'm as… as… well distracting as you are Milady."

"Merry!" Éowyn clasped her hands across her bosom as the lacings finally came completely undone. "You are a tease, as well as a bad hobbit."

"I know," Merry sighed as he rested back against the soft turf. "But I'm sure my concentration was better than Captain Faramir's would have been."

Éowyn did not argue with that, but bent down and gently kissed her sleepy friend on the brow before taking her clean bodice back to the riverside once more.

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_'Pippin, don't cry – you're all right and you've done nothing wrong.'_

_'We be make all some ones cross… gandalf go be cross and strider go be…'_

_'Legolas not go be cross!'_

Pippin actually giggled out loud at this, making Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli realise that Legolas had made a joke to amuse the hobbit. The elf was holding him closely and soothing his hair gently. Pippin had been frightened half to death by what had happened – by what he had done, and, although he could not tell Legolas exactly what it was, for fear of the wraith, or even Sauron Himself, overhearing, he knew that his friend would understand and not blame him. 

"What is it Pippin?" Gandalf kept his tone light as he came and put a gentle hand on a shaking shoulder. "What is Legolas saying to you that's so funny?"

Pippin looked up nervously at the wizard. As soon as he had finally taken the Ring off his finger and let It hang from the chain about his neck, Gandalf and Aragorn had stopped trying to take It from him and Legolas too had relaxed as Gandalf encouraged him to comfort the distraught hobbit. "Legolas just go talk funny at We. Make he sound like be Pippin in We heads."

"That must be some feat!" Gimli remarked with a snort. "It's all I can do to understand you out loud."

"Pippin not go help talk upsidewards Gimli," He turned to the dwarf looking somewhat indignant, sniffing back his recent tears of fright and tucking the Ring inside his shirt. "We got too much muddle in We heads you know."

"Pippin, Pippin!" Gandalf dropped to one knee and took his hand now. "What are we to do with you?" Very slowly and carefully the elderly wizard turned the hobbit around, patting Legolas on the shoulder as he took Pippin from him, and enfolded the little one in a gentle embrace. "You know I would not harm you and yes, yes… I know you were only acting in fear of what might happen to me, but you have to trust me, we've come this far together and you know that we are all your friends. Aragorn will not take the Ring from you, no more will I."

"Not knowed what you both got do?" Pippin snuggled into the wizard's arms, relieved not to be fighting him any more. "Pippin just not sure you undrerstood what We gotted. We not undrerstands it. How We gotted the Ring Gandalf? How it happened?"

"We're not too sure Pippin," Aragorn put a kindly hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "All we know is, that it did. What we have to decide now is what has to be done with this situation."

"It wants you." Pippin whispered the words, as though the Ring were listening to him. "You knows that, don't you? It keeps telling We to take Us to Aragorn son of Arathorn, to Isildur's Heir, that what We says It."

"The Power of the Ring must believe I would have the same frailties as my forebear," Aragorn said, "but does It not know that I would not have taken the Ring from Frodo?"

"Indeed? Then It has some knowledge of what It does, but not so much that It cannot be controlled!" Gandalf held Pippin back a little to take a good look at him. He gazed steadfastly at the hobbit and the green eyes did not waver but met the wizard's penetrating stare unflinchingly. "Pippin do you think you can make the power of the Ring go back? Back to the Ring carried by Frodo?"

Pippin shook his head slowly, a worried frown creasing his anxious face, "We not know what We can do, but Pippin not doing that, not think."

Legolas caught hold of Gandalf's arm to get his attention. The elf waved a finger in the air as if admonishing the wizard, but before he could respond, spoke quickly in his head. _'Make him talk properly!'_

Gandalf furrowed his brow now and answered Legolas out loud so the others could hear. "Make him talk properly? You could be correct, Legolas." The wizard had unbent himself from Pippin and faced Aragorn and Gimli, speaking quietly. "The Ring has seized onto that part of Pippin's mind that was already muddled, that's what I think Legolas means." They all waited for the elf until he nodded in confirmation. "If we can try to stop It gaining more ground there we may be able to help him."

Aragorn took Pippin by the shoulders and stooped to speak to him. "Pippin tell me how you are feeling now."

The hobbit was a little taken aback by this odd question but smiled amiably as he guessed the Ranger was making up for past misunderstandings. "We go be hungr…"

"No Pippin," Aragorn interrupted him. "You're not two people. Say _'I am hungry', t_ry to say that, _'I am hungry'_."

"You go be hungry and Pippin be hungry?" Pippin raised his eyebrows with a questioning smile. "We got go get We food!"

"No, Pippin." Aragorn tried patiently. "I want you to say _'I am hungry'_, just say that for me please. Will you try?"

"We go be…"

"No! Not, _'We'_ Pippin." Aragorn glanced at the others. They had not troubled too much with Pippin's odd speech, assuming it was something that had happened as a result of him being without communication for so long. "It's just you that's hungry, see if you can tell me that – not _'We'_ – just you."

Pippin frowned with concentration, wanting to get this right for the Ranger. "Pippin go be…"

"No, not _'Pippin'_." Aragorn stopped him again. "You are Pippin – you don't call yourself by your own name! Say _'I'_, please Pippin, try it again. Say _'I am hungry',_ for me."

"But do We gets some foods then?" 

Gandalf put a hand on Aragorn's arm to stay his reply, "Yes, if you can say _'I am hungry'_ for us. You can have the best meal the camp has to offer."

Pippin's expression had turned distinctly sulky. He looked crossly at the ranger and wizard; even Gimli seemed to want this strange performance from him. He was not sure why he felt so reluctant to do what they wanted, or why he found it so hard. He turned his back to them all and walked to the corner of the tent and slumped down on the ground, pulling up little blades of grass that had peeped through the edge of the canvas and muttering to himself. "Pippin go be hungry and they just wants We to do tricks like a baby-toddling. Pippin not got to say what We not can do it."

Gandalf followed him over, careful not to startle and keeping all his actions gentle and slow, he sat next to the hobbit and began to pick little pieces of grass as well. Not looking at Pippin but keeping his eyes fixed on the task of grass pulling. "It's just a few words Pippin. Can you not have a little try? Just for me?"

Pippin was silent.

"Perhaps there's something else you'd like? I know you're tired, do you want a sleep?" Gandalf tried to peep at Pippin's face now, but the hobbit turned away. "What do you feel, besides hungry?"

"Pippin is…" He stopped abruptly, knowing that was wrong, but not knowing how to say it right. He tried again. "We is…" Still wrong. Why was this so hard? Tears sprang to his eyes once more and Pippin felt isolated, lonely and so very, very sad. 

In that moment the thought of the Ring left him for the first time since It had taken hold. As two large drops dripped from his cheeks onto the little pile of grass blades he had collected, Pippin knew what was bothering him the most and this one feeling was not touched by the Ring. He looked up at Gandalf, a picture of misery, so forlorn that the wizard could have wept himself. "I miss Merry!"

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_'merry mistrer? it do be sam i! you can listern at i?'_

Merry opened his eyes blearily, not sure if he were dreaming or really hearing Sam's voice._ 'what is? is be sam you?'_

_'is merry mistrer – sam got to say at you…'_

Merry felt around in his mind, he was becoming quite skilled now at recognising when someone wanted him and at shutting his own mind when he knew he should not make contact. Although he had only spoken with him once before, he knew for certain that this was Sam.

_'what is sam? not talk at i big… it not safe…'_

_'it pip mistrer – you got tell he big message – it most portrant!'_

_'is?'_

_'frodo mastrer say pip got do same, same at he!'_

_'not undredstranding sam… what is he do?'_

_'not got say more… telling pip mistrer he make it senses… tell he, tell he got, got do!'_

_'but sam…'_

_'go now – not more… go now…'_

…and Sam's voice was gone. Merry looked up to see Éowyn and Faramir both looking at him with concern. "It was Sam." He told them simply.

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The Dark Lord spoke to them. Questioning them – questioning him. Khamul the Shadow of the East, that the low-life orcs crudely called _'number one'_ now the Witch King of Angmar was defeated and lost, he would answer to the Master. 

"Their army is small and without hope; Master, a force that will be swept away with the Lord Sauron's first breath. It is outnumbered many times over and could not prevail against a quarter's quarter of the ranks sent forth by Barad-dûr."

Then Sauron questioned him further, although Khamul was certain the answers were already know to Him. "Why then do they still march upon Mordor? Why do they not flee, to save what little of mankind that they may? Have they still another Power? A greater weapon that they shall wield at the end? Where is the halfling? Why do you not bring the Ring to me? 

Sauron's lieutenant answered. "The halfling carries the Ring. It is no longer hidden, but we could not bend the halfling to our will – to my will, Master. The wizard guards it with care."

The Dark Lord snarled at the failure, "I must have the Ring of Power – my Ring! I must be made whole again! If all their armies were but one man – one halfling – should he but be able to wield the One Ring, all would fall before him. The halfling cannot know, does not understand. Find it – this halfling! Take it from the wizard and bring it to me!"

"Master, we will not touch the wizard. The halfling must try to wield the Ring, then we can take it. But it is too simple and will not heed our call!"

"Three halflings you have had for me and three you have lost! All trace of them is gone yet now you tell me one has my Ring of Power. How was every shred of them lost and still my Power evades me in the hands of these ratlings!"

"We have some shreds of the halflings' Master. The clothing of the one taken in Cirith Ungol was brought hither and some possession of the other that was brought to you, we have also."

"So as my servants fail me I must act. I shall send forth emissaries. My Mouthpiece shall speak with this fool's army, this wizard! Show them what we have taken from the halflings, make them believe we have at least one still in our grasp. Then, under guise of a truce, while the wizard is distracted with vain boasting, you will take the halfling who carries My Ring of Power, bring it to me that I may devour it slowly and claim what is mine."

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It was the fifth day of their journey and Legolas now rode behind Gimli on Arod, better for the dwarf to guide the way, but as they rode at the head of the battalions, flanking Aragorn, whilst to the leader's right was Shadowfax, none of the soldiery would have known that the elf was blind. Gimli, knowing that Legolas would either listen or shut him out depending on his need, kept up a low monologue of what was happening or described the scenery and, most importantly he could tell from the way his friend would squeeze his arm at the telling, how Pippin was faring.

"The young hobbit appears to be sleeping now, he has rested his head back against Gandalf and the wizard has drawn his cloak about him to keep him from the cold mist." Gimli felt a grateful pressure on his arm. "He seems a lot more relaxed and not so frightened, although I suspect he is very tired as it has been a trying day for him." The dwarf felt Legolas tense a little. "Gandalf is taking good care of him though and it was a good choice not to allow him to ride on Shadowfax alone any longer. At least this way, if the Nazgûl return, Gandalf can protect him better."

Gimli lapsed into silence for a while as the company moved slowly onwards, then, as the terrain took on a grim countenance he spoke again. "We are nearing a great expanse of desolation and before us to the north and west lie the marshes and desert that reach to the Emyn Muil. This land seems to be empty save for noisome pits and great heaps and hills of slag and broken rock and blasted earth, the vomit of the maggot-folk of Mordor." Gimli shaded his eyes the better to see further, although there was no sun. "Before us stands the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor and the Black Gate with two towers like teeth stand dark and tall upon either side, but the vast iron doors are fast closed."

As they dismounted to make their last camp before the onslaught that they knew must come, Legolas caught Gimli's arm once more in silent question. "Gandalf has lifted the young hobbit down from Shadowfax. He appears to be slumbering still. Wait for a moment and I shall take you to him as soon as Arod is given water and rest."

But Legolas did not wait. He trusted Gimli to care for his steed and found his way alone, through what sense only another elf could probably tell, finding the wizard and his small burden unerringly. Gandalf carried the drowsy hobbit to the nearest campfire which had been started and placed him in the care of his blind friend.

Aragorn came to Gandalf and they stood a little back from the fire watching the elf rocking the hobbit. After a short while Gimli joined them and the three sat together, Pippin in Legolas's lap and Gimli talking quietly to them both about nothing in particular. "'Tis a strange fellowship that was formed by our quest," Gandalf would have laughed had the mood been lighter. "I doubt if before, or ever again, an elf, dwarf and hobbit would become such friends as these."

"Indeed my friend," Aragorn agreed. "But these are strange times in which folk must cast off their former selves and find the strength to become all that is asked of them."

"That is more true for you than anyone," Gandalf looked now into Aragorn's eyes. He might have expected some sign of weariness, but if there were any, it was dispelled by determination and resolve. "Much depends upon you now – but I know you are equal to whatever will befall."

"But what of Pippin?" Aragorn nodded toward the three companions by the fireside, "what are we to do with him and the Ring that he bears?"

"Pippin is at present quiet because I encouraged him to take more poppy." Gandalf held up his hands in defence of the protest he knew would follow. "I know, but it was the best solution for the time being. He is very vulnerable at the moment and does not fully understand the enormity of what has happened to him – or of what might lie ahead for him. I did not want him to be frightened and he needed to calm down."

"How is his speech faring?" Aragorn had heard the small progress Pippin had made initially when he had asked for Merry. "Is 'our' Pippin showing any signs of returning?"

"A little," Gandalf sighed deeply, "but I think he is still bound deeply to the Ring now. I fear what may lie in store for him. If this Ring becomes as powerful as Frodo's is and Pippin is unable to transfer the power back, It too will have to be destroyed and the only way that can happen will be for It to be taken also to Mount Doom."

"You are not suggesting that Pippin travel into Mordor again?" Aragorn looked at the hobbit, his head resting against the elf's arm as he looked dazedly into the depths of the fire.

"No, I think it will not come to that." Gandalf agreed. "I hope that once Frodo manages … **_if_** Frodo manages to destroy his Ring, then, probably, the power of this One will die too, although we cannot be sure. In the meantime we have to stop Pippin from trying to take his Ring to the fiery mountain, as he believes he must. He would not survive such a journey, I am sure."

,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°

TBC

Author's Notes:  
Thank you's to Kookaburra for help with the riding sequence and of course to Marigold for the beta-ing and the plot chats we've had. Blame, however, can be attributed to Marigold (and I suspect indirectly, Baylor) for the Merry/Éowyn sequence in this chapter. If you have any doubts, just go and read Baylor's "Did I say Bosom?" story.

I know I have been slow with this last chapter and that like many fanfic writers I'm going to claim real life got in the way, but this has been tragically true for my family in the last month, so you will have to forgive me. The next chapter will be much faster.

I also took a little break from Recaptured and have written three other things during the last month. This is in addition to my two regular role playing games of course. 

One was a teensy drabble for the Henneth Annûn group which was to sum up a chapter of Fellowship in 100 words. I got to do "A Conspiracy Unmasked" and I did it in the style of Merry and Pippin's song from that chapter – which was fun. You can find it on my LJ or on the Henneth Annûn site (along with the rest of Fellowship by various writers). 

I also wrote a couple of additional verses to Legolas's Lay from Fate and the High King's Falcon by Baylor. This was because she published, in her LJ, an alternative chapter in which Pippin almost suffers a terrible fate and Legolas rewrote the song in his head a little. So, as I was feeling a little melancholy it seemed appropriate to write the verses out for him. They can be found in my LJ.

Finally, I wrote a little story that started bugging me and you can find it on ff.net if you haven't already. It's called Promises, Promises and explains why Pippin always wears his scarf and why he pledged himself to Denethor, well my reasons why!

Once more, thanks everyone for all your wonderful reviews. I see from the hit counter I now have on ff.net that the last two chapters, since I acquired the paid account, have notched up nearly 500 hits each! Which is amazing – I think. So for those of you who pause to review – thanks and for those of you who don't – I still know you're there – aha! I have ff.net's version of a palantír!

On with the chat:-

Shirebound: If it's destroyed. If it is still, indeed, the real Ring. If we're not all barking mad by then  
Llinos: So many 'ifs' – where will it all end?

Pip: Wow, the story's starting to get a little creepy,  
Llinos: Yes creepy preciousss – very creepy - ,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤øº°`°º¤ø,¸¸, and wobbly.

lindelea: Ah, worth waiting for.  
Llinos: Yes sorry about the wait – I'll try to be better, life gets in the way.

Brenda: Could you have your ancestors (from Hobbits Abroad) have to destroy the second ring decades later?  
Llinos: Now there's a thought? Be scary to have to write all the history in between though.

Xena: I want my hobbits to be okay!  
Llinos: Don't worry – I promise to take care of them for you – if not in this story, then the next! I you feel better about Gandalf now.

Gayalondiel: that's one hell of a plot twist, I can safely say I didn't see it coming  
Llinos: You have no idea how much that pleases me!

Sakura123/Willow: Merry is snuggled up against Éowyn, how cute!  
Llinos: He got even closer this week – but they're just good friends.

:) : Could Aragorn see Pippin still? If so why couldn't Gimli see him?  
Llinos: Yes Aragorn could see Pip because of his connection through the palantír, but Gimli could not because he has no such sight into the Shadow World. Legolas could see him of course because ATM that's all he can see.

:) Are you goin to change, or take out chapter 86 as well?  
Llinos: Probably when I have time, although I will leave it on my website, "A Peep in the Palantír". (Designed by the famous Kookaburra)

:) I love what you did with chapter three!  
Llinos: Good, that was from a plot bunny of Marigold's – Yay for Marigold and the Plot Bunnies!

Gillian: Cracks up:: poor gimli!  
Llinos: Yes I agree – I'm trying to write him a bigger part, he always seems to get stuck with comedy relief.

Eldarin Queen: three cheers to all who thought of that  
Llinos: Don't think anyone has yet. Can't even remember if it was me or Marigold? I think it happened gradually.

FantasyFan: (Everyone go and read the review for lots of good analysis)  
Llinos: You pretty much got everything right here (I love readers who answer their own questions, saves me a lot explaining). You are right about why some can see Pippin and others not, although for Aragorn it's also that he half enters the Shadow World when he uses the palantír, but his heritage and experience with the One Ring are also factors. Merry and Éowyn, I think the closer Faramir sees them get, the more he realises Merry is not competition, although I don't think he saw Merry using his teeth on Éowyn's bodice! Any way – great reviews – I look forward to reading them.

meatball: Which ring is the real RING??  
Llinos: Not so much which is real – but which has the Power? 

sam: I can't write a long review today, I've been away from the computer for over a week. I need to catch up with many stories  
Llinos: So many stories and only two eyes! Thanks for reviewing though – I love to hear from everyone – long or short.

august wynd: did pippin actually disappear?  
Llinos: Yup – scared him silly too!

aelfgifu: Perhaps he can go to Middle earth rehab after this story is through-unless they get hobbit napped again!  
Llinos: Don't worry he'll get the help he needs – and that's Recaptured! Hobbitnapped indeed!

Tasha: I feel very sorry for Gandalf though.  
Llinos: Well that'll teach him for not taking a joke! (sorry folks – different story – ask me if you want to know more.)

Natta: not poppy again, I thought we were over that stuff!  
Llinos: Oh it's very difficult to shake – let that be a lesson to any one thinking of growing poppies!

QTPie: is the ring that Pip holds going to end up stronger that Frodo's? Will Frodo notice this change?  
Llinos: You're right, Frodo has started to notice but I don't know which will emerge stronger – could be a battle.

Mistoffelees: Can this story get any better? Will it ever end?  
Llinos: Well when it starts to get worse – I guess that's where it ends? Make sense? Never mind.

Stef: I read chapters 1-50 yesterday. I read chapters 51 to 116 tonight. It is currently 2:30 am where I live.  
Llinos: No - thank you! Love it when someone new drops by and reads it all in one go.

Princess-Pixie-Sugar-Stix (Sugar for short): I do hope you continue VERY soon, for the sake of my sanity!  
Llinos: Well there's a plea I can hardly refuse.

Baylor: I also liked Faramir's jealousy. Personally, I think he's right to be suspicious -- I have it on good authority that Merry is not the most proper of hobbits.  
Llinos: Okay – personally I used to blame Marigold, and I have to confess that she insisted on the above sequence where Merry gets to use his teeth! But who encouraged her I ask? 

Big Fish, Little Fish, cardboard BOX: I just saw the logo thingie of Merry and Pip on your bio page.I would take it home and put it in a jar and stare at it all day if i could.  
Llinos: Ah – again another instance where I can avoid blame and point the finger at Baylor – who kindly made me that logo thingy. Nice to see you Roadkill btw, interesting new name.

sweetieloon: Baylor recommended your writing on her LJ a few days ago, and ever since I have spent an average of 5-6 hours a day reading Recaptured.  
Llinos: Okay – that's **_three_** in a row now where I can blame Baylor and not me! Yay! (Nice to see you here – I'll try to write faster.)

Pearl Took I'm one who will be happy for the changes to chapter 3. This is an awesome story but I've not been comfortable recommending it as much as I would like because of the slash. I hope this doesn't pain you too much as you seem to really enjoy slash, but it is a shame to have it limit such a wonderful story's potential readership.  
Llinos: I wasn't happy with it either. I just put it in trying to keep everyone happy – I'll try to take it all out soon as it's so minimal there's no real point to it and there's plenty of real slash for them as wants it elsewhere.

Marigold: Merry all nestled in Eowyn's bosom, lol! Remember our phone conversation about turn about! I really want to see Faramir's reaction to that.  
Llinos: See! I told you it was all Marigold's fault! Although she will probably blame Baylor and quite right too! Nice long review Marigold – go read it everyone if you want great analysis.

tufail: It is so good and it is hard to wait so long for an update.  
Llinos: I know I've been a while – but it's been a tricky month for me – next chapter quicker – promsis!

Sarah Sweetie: why do you keep your author alerts off?  
Llinos: I didn't know I did? I shouldn't – that is I wouldn't if I knew I had – but I didn't – sorry.

Anna T Bell: SINCE WHEN CAN THE RING MOVE BETWEEN THINGYS?! -dies-  
Llinos: What can I say? It happened! Please don't die!

Seph: after a marathon session of reading (at Marigold's suggestion), I'm all caught up, and horrified at the fact that I am. Update update update!  
Llinos: Ah another newbie – Glad you're like me and always take Marigold's advice. I guess you found this on her excellent recommendations site. May I recommend it – hosted by Baylor, Marigold's recs, updated every Friday. Email me for the url – fanfic strips them out of my postings for some reason. Oh and Marigold says "Hi and thank you!"

That's all folks!

Heddwch  
Llinos


	27. Pursuit

Time for another synopsis as things are getting slightly complicated. **_Llinos_**

**_The story so far:_**

1. As the armies of the West march upon the Black Gate, Gandalf is using Pippin as bait for Sauron by making him appear to be the Ringbearer in order to give Frodo a better chance. To increase the deception, Gimli forged a gold ring and they hung it about Pippin's neck while he slept.

2. Merry was recovering from his battle with the Witch King in Minas Tirith, nursed by Éowyn (assisted by Faramir) and Dysgwr, but still has not seen Pippin after regaining his sight, and as Pippin had left for the battle before Merry regained consciousness has not had the chance to verbally speak with him either.

3. Gandalf's plan begins to backfire after the power of Frodo's Ring, frantically looking for escape from the fires of Mount Doom, finds a link with Pippin (who It remembers from an encounter Bilbo had with Pippin when Pippin was small) and manages to transfer some of Its power to Pippin's ring.

4. Aragorn uses the palantír to confront Sauron but has Pippin join him at the same time to reinforce him as Ring bait. In the process Pippin's mind finds Frodo's.

5. Gandalf has Legolas send a mind message to Éowyn to tell Merry to mentally contact Sam to tell Frodo not to mindspeak with Pippin as it may lead Sauron to Frodo. So they do.

6. Pippin becomes mistrustful of Gandalf and Aragorn, believing that he has the one Ring and that they want to take It from him. He also starts to become delusional and paranoid, his already muddled speech starting to sound like Gollum. Pippin determines that he needs to try to take his Ring to Mount Doom and destroy It.

7. Frodo and Sam shut out Pippin's voice by playing rhyming games.

8. Legolas and Pippin are mindspeaking to perpetrate the deception that Pippin is the Ringbearer, but Sauron hears and then attacks them on the mental plane they occupy. Legolas is blinded and struck mute but before his hearing can be taken, Merry and Éowyn, combined as one mighty warrior, intervene and save him. They in turn are brought back to the living world by Faramir's unwitting intervention.

9. Faramir keeps getting jealous twinges over Éowyn's friendship with Merry.

10. Merry and Éowyn, having been in mind contact with Pippin, now know that he thinks he is the Ringbearer and that he no longer trusts Gandalf or Aragorn and will try to go to Mount Doom. They believe they must stop him, but cannot deliver this message through mindspeak to Legolas or Pippin as Sauron or the Nazgûl might overhear. Théoden agrees that Éowyn and Faramir will ride out to catch up and stop Pippin doing anything untoward.

11. Merry, with the help of Drâmym and Ŭnomer, manages to escape his healer Dysgwr and King Théoden, to accompany them. 

12. Théoden is angry when he finds Merry gone as Dysgwr had been, on Gandalf's orders, dosing Merry with opium to keep his mind shielded from the Nazgûl. He sends Drâmym, Ŭnomer and Dysgwr after him with orders to bring him back or at least dose him up again.

13. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam are battling with rock falls and unexpected deluges and then Frodo begins to realise that the Ring is losing some of Its power and that the power is transferring to Pippin. Frodo can still hear some of Pippin's thoughts though he is careful not to answer him.

14. Gandalf regrets his ploy now as it seems to be getting out of control and tries to take the faux Ring back from Pippin, but Pippin will not relinquish It as he still believes It to be the true Ring and that Gandalf wants It for himself. Although Pippin declares he just wants to continue as bait, he is in fact determined to attempt the destruction of his Ring. 

15. Meanwhile, beyond the Black Gate, Smagnu and Grutfley and Sniggin and Bloggin and Co are preparing for the battle. They have been given charge of Groll the Troll.

16. Gandalf learns from Aragorn's experience with Pippin and the palantír, that Pippin had touched the Ring when he was a child. This puts a different complexion on things and Gandalf is horrified to learn the fact, as it means the Ring may well have found Pippin again.

16. Sauron, after His encounter with Pippin, Legolas and Merry/Éowyn is certain now of where the halfling is that carries His Ring. 

17. Nazgûl fly over the army's camp and Pippin runs out to show himself, planning to order the Nazgûl to take him to Mount Doom. Legolas and Gimli rush to protect him and manage to hold the attack off until Gandalf arrives and, using the flame of Anor, repels the wraith. With the enormous surge of power that the wizard uses, more of the Ring's power transfers from Frodo's Ring to Pippin's.

18. Aragorn and Gandalf realise that Pippin's Ring has become more powerful and attempt again to take It from him. This results in a skirmish ending with Pippin putting the Ring on to try and escape. Although visible to Aragorn, (because of who he is and their connection through the palantír) and Gandalf and Legolas (who can now see what is in the Shadow World and naught else) he becomes invisible to Gimli. Gandalf finally persuades Pippin to take the Ring off – but agrees that he should keep It.

19. Frodo now realises for certain that Pippin's Ring has to be destroyed along with his Ring as the power has divided between the two Rings. He sends a message, via Sam to Merry to tell Pippin this. Merry can't do this using mindspeak, in case he is overheard, so it becomes imperative that he reaches Pippin.

20. Gandalf realises how firmly Pippin is attached to his Ring now, but hopes that once Frodo has destroyed his Ring, Pippin's will fail too. In the meantime he believes he must prevent Pippin from trying to go to Mount Doom. They try to persuade Pippin to speak normally, and finally he manages to say, "I miss Merry."

**_Now read on…_**

Pursuit  
Recaptured – Chapter 119 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Three riders, coming fast towards us." Faramir shaded his eyes the better to see. "I cannot yet make out whose colours they wear – friend or foe."

"It looks like nothing more than a dust cloud to my view yet." Éowyn wondered whether Faramir's better interpretation was due to superior vision or a long experience of scouting and patrolling.

"I think it's Drâmym and Ŭnomer." Merry tried to stand a little taller on Gaseg-Wen, levering his bare hobbit toes against the edge of Éowyn's saddle. "And I think they have Dysgwr with them. That's odd, he did not seem the type of man to go riding about the country."

Éowyn decided that it was not experience but superior eyesight that gave Faramir the edge, she was obviously not able to see things at a distance as well as her two companions. "I imagine you are the inspiration for his journey then Merry." Éowyn exchanged guilty glances with Faramir, who looked up from his task of dousing their campfire, before setting off on their journey once more. "The healer obviously holds his responsibility for you very deeply."

"Oh Éowyn, do you think so," Merry turned to look up at the lady, "I feel dreadful now for running off – poor Dysgwr."

"Well, I suppose the least we can do is wait here for them, to see what their mission or message can be." Faramir advised. He halted from extinguishing the fire and warmed his hands over the remaining flames. "It must be quite critical for a healer to ride out from the City."

"Do you suppose they're going to take me back though?" Merry was aware that he was not really fit for this journey and that he should not have put the other two in danger by asking to come, but his need to find Pippin was not always a logical thing. "I-I just know I have to find Pippin now." But there was more than just his personal need. Merry recalled the message Sam had given him, perhaps now would be a good time to mention it, just in case he was not able to deliver it himself. "Éowyn, if they insist I go back, there is something important you have to tell Pippin. But please…" Merry wriggled around to look plaintively up at her. "…you must not tell anyone else – just Pip."

"What is it Merry?" Éowyn did not need to tell Merry he could trust her, he already knew that.

Merry lowered his voice to a whisper, looking a little furtively at Faramir, "Pippin has to do something, Sam told me. _He has to do the same as Frodo_. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I'm sure Pippin will know what to do."

"But Merry," Éowyn was not certain if the hobbit was being deliberately vague, "They must mean for him to destroy his ring – to take it to Mount Doom! Is that not Frodo's mission and what we're chasing Pippin to prevent him from trying to do?"

"Yes… and… and…" Merry faltered, looking down once more at the reins in Éowyn's hand. "…I don't know what to advise him, but I think on this occasion Pippin will know in his heart what is the right thing to do." Merry then perked up a little and looked up once more, "and I know that Frodo and Sam would not misguide us, so I'm sure that to take Pippin's ring to the fiery mountain is the proper course, and Éowyn…" the hobbit's voice took on a pleading note, "I have to go with him – he cannot be expected to do this alone, so don't let them take me back – please!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"Wass 'at you got there?" Grutfley watched the smaller orcs in his battalion boiling up something else in the big pot. "I thought we'd had all the grub fer today."

"We did Sergeant," Bloggin jumped up to attention to answer his superior, "this 'un's jist summink for a sort a' decoration."

"Descoration? Wass a point o' that?" Grutfley leaned forward and sniffed tentatively at the pot not liking the look of what was in there at all. "It looks like a fuggin' mess – is what it looks."

"It's called woad Sergeant," Sniggin had been stirring but dropped the long stick in the pot to turn and answer. "Me Mum tol' us 'bout it. Iss what all the men's in olden times wored when they's go into battle. I thought 'cause we was gonna go to battle it might help."

"Thass not proper woad anyhows." Grutfley dipped some out of the pot with his leathery fingers and dipped his tongue out to taste the blue goo. "Thass glaslichen, that is."

"Is's the right colour though Sergeant." Bloggin pointed out, "'cept it don't seem to stick too well just yet. Praps if'n I's boils it a bit more."

"Nah – 'taint gonna work" Grutfley shook his head in disagreement, "it's too thin by half and it's not gone get sticky on it's own like. Yer gotta put somethin' else in it. Nice drop o' stuff though." He smacked his lips at the taste of the blue liquid from the squelched down moss, "it packs quite a kick that drug."

"Is it a drug Sergeant?" Sniggin sniffed at the brew himself now, "we dursn't know nuffin' about it see, 'cept it's blue."

"That blue moss – very potent – bit like poppy only more of a painstopper." Grutfley told them. He had had cause to use it himself on a few occasions when injured in fights. "Best watch how much you sup o' that."

"We wasn't gonna drinks it, Sergeant." Bloggin explained again, "We's gonna wear it – fer the battle, see? Only it's not thick enough an' it won't stick."

"Well, youse could try an' get Groll ter spit in it." Grutfley chortled at the mental image this had already conjured up for him. "Troll spittle is pretty thick and glutinous. They used ter make glue out o' it back in Barad-dûr."

Sniggin and Bloggin, ever enterprising and ready to tackle most things, immediately hefted the cooking pot up between them and plodded over to where Groll was now moving restlessly from foot to foot. Both were fully prepared to drop the pot and run at the first sign of hunger as neither one wanted to end up as a troll snack.

"Come on, good Groll," Bloggin yelled at the creature, "Groll spit – come on gob, Groll – in the pot." To show the troll what was needed, both the little orcs worked up some phlegm and managed to spit lustily into the pot. At first the monster tried to pick up the pot in order to swill the contents, but Bloggin was ready for him and smacked him across the back of his big hand with the ladle. "No! Not fud! Not Groll fud!"

"Groll go glump!" Sniggin shouted, gobbing into the pot once more.

"Groll go glump!" The troll watched them and growled with bewilderment. "Glump?"

"Yes – Groll, glump!" Sniggin jumped up and down making revolting noises through his nose and throat at the creature to encourage him to expectorate.

Finally, the beast snorted in the back of its great throat, making a liquid gurgling cacophony of troll saliva and snot. Sniggin and Bloggin managed to scramble out of range just as the troll produced what they wanted with a force that splashed the glaslichen almost out of the pot. Fortunately, most of the contents fell back into the receptacle along with the phlegm.

The little brothers waved up at the troll, "Good Groll!" Sniggin shouted as he and Bloggin between them dragged the pot back to their fire. Sniggin stirred it up once more and lifted the stick out to check the mixture.

"Looks better eh?" Grutfley remarked. The glaslichen indeed was now far more viscous and less liquid than before. "That should be all right, what yer gonna do? Paint it on yer armour?"

"No, Sergeant," Sniggin took a large dollop of the blue concoction and waved it around to cool it. "So's yer and the Captain'll know which is your orcs, we're gone to paint it on our faces!"

***********************************************************************************************************

Frodo and Sam were sitting quietly under the rocky outcrop half way to the summit of Mount Doom. Had the overhang been a leafy beech tree and the hard stone that they sat upon been the green grass of the Shire, they might even have been close to happy as they munched on the last few pieces of lembas and eked out their few mouthfuls of water.

"Sam the Ring is definitely feeling lighter now, but…" Frodo paused not wanting to add anything bad to worry his servant."

"But what Mr Frodo?" It was too late to throw the tenacious Samwise off the subject, Frodo should have realised. "You can't just give a 'but' and leave the rest."

"I know, I just didn't want to say the thought that crossed my mind." Frodo gave a small smile, "although you Sam always seem to know what I'm thinking."

"I wouldn't know about that Sir," Sam looked embarrassed and turned his head away to look at the grim terrain around them. "I'm not too sure why we have to wait now, although I suppose you know what's right – what Gandalf would have wanted."

"…or Bilbo." Frodo added mysteriously.

"Bilbo? How do you mean?" Sam wondered if the lightness had extended from the Ring to Frodo's head. "What does Mr Bilbo have to do with it?"

"You talking about knowing what people want without them having to explain." Frodo looked encouragingly at Sam, hoping that he had successfully thrown him off the scent of asking what **_was_** on his mind. 

"Ah I was never much good at that Mr Frodo," Sam turned back to look quizzically at the other. "Even Mr Bilbo. No!" Sam amended quickly, "especially Mr Bilbo. I loved his stories and all, but I never could tell what was going on in his head."

"But you learned," Frodo reminded him, "eventually. Remember when he told you where to plant the bulbs and how upset you got?"

"I'll not forget that, Mr Frodo," Sam put his head on one side as the memory of that early encounter with his dear Master flitted across his thoughts.

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"Oh confustigations and botheration!" Bilbo always flustered when there was a knock on the door. It was one of the things Frodo noticed above all others since he had come to live at Bag End. "Now who in Mirkwood and beyond could that be? No wizards or dwarves I hope!" He dropped his spoon back into his plate as he stood to answer the rapping and, winking at Frodo, "or especially relatives!"

Frodo listened carefully as the big round front door was swung open.

"Oh it's you! Well what's the problem?"

"Please Mr Bilbo Sir, the Gaffer says I'm to plant your spring bulbs and I'm not sure where. and the Gaffer's gone off to Bywater to get that new rake and I'm not rightly sure and I didn't want to get it wrong."

Frodo recognised the voice of the gardener's youngest son; he liked Samwise. Although the lad was only 9, he worked alongside his father willingly and with enthusiasm, as if his one delight in all the world was to be planting and trimming so he could watch in wonder the gifts of the earth sprout and bloom.

"Oh come now lad," Bilbo sounded impatient but Frodo could tell there was an edge of teasing in his voice. He wondered if Samwise heard it too. "Give them to me for pity's sake! There's an awful lot here."

"There is Master Bilbo, Sir." 

Frodo left the table to peep round the edge of the doorway to get a glimpse of what it was they were talking about. Bilbo had taken the little wooden tray filled to the brim with crocus, daffodil and primrose bulbs and was stalking off into the Bag End gardens. Frodo moved to the front door and saw young Samwise scuttling after his father's employer, his bag of a hat held in both hands as he anxiously wrung it around like a dishcloth.

Bilbo stood in the middle of the garden, under the shady oak and suddenly threw the contents of the tray up into the air. The bulbs tumbled higgledy piggledy all over the grass, some landing nearby and others rolling a little way down the hill. "There!" Bilbo exclaimed. "That's where you plant them, you don't ask me – ask them." 

Frodo scurried back inside as his Uncle turned again towards the smial, but before he did he could not help noticing a bewildered look on young Samwise's face.

As soon as second breakfast was finished, Frodo washed the cups and plates as he had begun to do since moving in with Bilbo. At first his older cousin had fussed around when his protégé had undertaken the task, as if he did not quite trust the lad with his precious crockery, but Frodo was careful and meticulous and no accidents had occurred, so now Bilbo let him get on with it. As soon as the task was complete, Frodo hurried outside to see what the gardener's son was up to. He too loved to see things flourish and grow and Samwise seemed to have a oneness with the earth and plants that Frodo had not encountered before in one so young and it fascinated him.

"Sam? Samwise – what's wrong?" Frodo had crept quietly around the massive tree trunk when he had heard stifled sobs coming from the far side. "Did you fall and hurt yourself? What's the matter?"

"N-no… I just… " A long sniff followed by a deep breath interrupted the hiccupping noise. "It's just, I think I annoyed Mr Bilbo and… and I really didn't mean to, and now my gaffer'll be cross with me and mebbe won't let me come and do for Mr Bilbo again."

"Why Sam, I don't think you've offended Uncle Bilbo." Frodo was mortified to hear this. "What ever makes you think so?"

"Well," Sam gave another quick sniff, feeling in his pocket for a handkerchief and gratefully accepting the clean pressed square Frodo offered when he failed to find one. "When I asked him where to plant the bulbs, he just… just…" Sam's voice broke off into hiccupping sounds once more.

"Threw them in the air?" Frodo supplied helpfully. 

Sam nodded and hitched his breath again. "I didn't mean to make him cross, I-I just didn't know wh-where to put them."

"Oh Sam, I'm sure he wasn't angry," Frodo gave an encouraging little smile and reached out to offer Sam his hand. "Come with me, let's see what's up."

"Oh no – I dursent!" Sam backed away a little looking at Frodo's hand as if it were a red hot poker. "I mustn't upset him any more, my gaffer'll give me what for if'n I make things worse."

"Sam, Uncle Bilbo won't be angry with you – I promise," Frodo knew his older cousin could be strange, but he was not unkind or unreasonable. "Come on now." Frodo reached out and took Sam by the hand and pulled him forward.

Reluctantly, and really because he had no option without now offending Frodo, Sam allowed himself to be pulled along until they found Bilbo. He was ensconced in his work in the little study, a quill in his hand as well as another forgetfully left behind his ear. "What do you two lads want eh? More planting advice?" 

Sam quavered a little at this. But Bilbo did not actually seem too cross, just distracted. "Please sir, Mr Bilbo, I ju-just thought…" Sam could not articulate his fears to Bilbo any more than he had been able to with Frodo.

"What he's wondering Uncle," Frodo stepped in helpfully, "is why did you throw the bulbs up in the air? Were you cross because Sam didn't know where to put them?"

Bilbo's answer was uproarious laughter. "No… no my lad!" He finally managed to gasp out. "Young Samwise you are a good little gardener but you've still got a lot to learn. Master Hamfast should have told you, spring flowers don't like to be ordered about and set down neatly in serried ranks. They are really wild flowers that we persuade to grow in our gardens. So when you want to know where to plant them, you have to let them decide for themselves."

"I see Sir," Sam sniffed a little but brightened considerably, "I didn't understand, but now I see, you throw them up and then plant them where they land."

"Of course you do lad!" Bilbo patted Sam on the shoulder. "Otherwise they'd sulk and refuse to stick their heads through the soil come springtime."

"Right then Mr Bilbo," Sam managed a smile of his own now, "I'll go and get them set in the earth ready then, just wherever they landed."

"Off you go then lads." Bilbo turned back to his manuscript with a little chortle. "Me cross over flowers… whatever next?"

"Can I help you Sam?" Frodo walked back to the garden with the youngster. "I like to plant things too."

"Well my gaffer says I was to do it." Sam pulled his hat back on his head, "I'm not sure it would be proper and all with you being the Master's nephew."

"We're cousins really," Frodo explained, "I just call him Uncle Bilbo because he's always seemed like an uncle to me."

"Well all the same…" Sam knew his position and that of the young master. "But Mr Frodo, I'm everso grateful to you for sorting that all out. I was a might upset and I did get it all wrong. My gaffer alus says I don't think things through properly."

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo picked up the trowel and started a little hole to plant the first bulb. "You certainly understand flowers, even if you don't always understand folk."

"I thought I did," Sam admitted, "but not as well as Mr Bilbo. I never knew daffs and crocuses had such strong opinions on where to grow."

"Me neither," Frodo agreed, "so we both learned something new today, although I'm not certain what it was."

"How do you mean?" Sam carefully placed the crocus in the hole Frodo had made and patted the earth back down on top of it, pushing the grass neatly back into place.

"Either flowers have senses of their own, or my Uncle Bilbo has taken leave of his," Frodo added with a grin, "like everyone around here seems to think."

"Oh no, Mr Frodo," Sam was emphatic, "Mr Bilbo… is… is the most wise hobbit I ever did meet. I'll never understand him, or half of what he says, but I believe every word he tells me and if he says flowers know where they want to be, then I'm sure he's right."

Frodo did not argue with that.

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"I was only a scrap of a lad then," Sam pointed out. "I didn't understand that adults could be fanciful about flowers, like Mr Bilbo. My gaffer loves growing things, but I don't think he ever wrote a poem about a flower."

"I know what you mean Sam," Frodo ran some dry dust through his fingers, "I wish there were some flowers to be fanciful about here. This place is so dry."

"I know Mr Frodo," Sam considered the dry earth running like sand in an hourglass through his master's hand for a moment. "You said earlier that the Ring felt lighter though."

"Hmm?" Frodo absentmindedly picked up another handful of dust.

"But that there was something else, only you didn't say what."

"Sam! I thought I'd distracted you enough to make you forget that." Frodo sighed heavily.

"Like you said Mr Frodo," Sam put his hand under Frodo's and caught the spilling earth. "I learned to tell what's going on inside folk's heads – especially Mr Bilbo and you! I know what's bothering you."

"You do?" Frodo was surprised as he had not been completely sure himself.

"The Ring feels lighter because of sending some of Its power away – away to Mr Pippin." Sam frowned as if he were directly gleaning the thoughts from Frodo's mind, "but your heart is heavier because you know it means that Pippin will somehow have to come here and face the same agony that you have been going through. And I know you would sooner bear it all yourself than have young Mr Peregrin suffer one moment of torment."

"Oh Sam," Frodo smiled a smile so endearing it almost broke Samwise's heart. "You know what's in my head and in my heart as if you dwelt there yourself."

"I know Mr Frodo," Sam nodded with his own smile, "I know."

***********************************************************************************************************

"I'm truly sorry for your trouble Mr Dysgwr." Merry was indeed sorry to see his kind healer looking so bedraggled and travel sore. "I did not expect you to come after me though. Surely there are more deserving people needing your help in Minas Tirith than one truant hobbit would warrant?" 

"Meriadoc, believe me, I would not have set foot or heel near one of these wretched horses had it not been imperative!" Dysgwr remained seated upon Diawl Goch for all his protests. Merry suspected the effort to climb down unaided was beyond the awkwardly seated healer. He looked as at home on a horse as Samwise did in a boat!

"How long did it take my Uncle the King to interrogate the truth from you two worthy Riders?" Éowyn looked half sternly but also half mockingly at Drâmym and Ŭnomer.

"We realised Milady," Drâmym looked about as sheepish as a Rider of Rohan can in full Rohirric armour atop a noble steed, "…after we had aided Merry to abscond, that we may not have acted in his best interests."

"Merry, tell me," Dysgwr's voice had a note of urgency to it, "did you take that medicine with you – the bottle from the cupboard in your room?"

"Yes," Merry looked puzzled, wondering if that were a right or wrong thing to have done. "I thought I might need to go on taking the medicine."

"And did you?" Dysgwr asked, "go on taking it, that is."

"A little," Merry told him. "Why? Is it important?"

"Gandalf said you were to take it," the healer explained. "He was most insistent about it. He said it would stop you accidentally mindlinking with your cousin, but also it apparently stops the Nazgûl or the Dark Lord from finding you – in your mind that is."

"But I don't understand," Éowyn put in, "why did it not stop Merry and me back in Minas Tirith? We linked minds and even fought with the Dark Lord after he attacked Pippin."

"Quite simply because Meriadoc had been sick and rejected the medicine and I had not yet pressed more upon him," Dysgwr had not seen fit to mention it at the time because he had not envisioned Merry needing to know the real value of the drug. "There was not enough of the potion inside him to be effective."

"You mean you have been drugging me to control my mindspeaking? Without telling me!" Merry could not keep the edge of anger out of his voice, "That's… that's terrible! How could you do that!

"Meriadoc it was not my decision," Dysgwr was surprised at the sudden vehemence from the halfling "I was only following Mithrandir's instructions."

"Is it normal procedure in the Houses of Healing to drug adult patients without their consent?" Faramir knew for a fact that it was not. "Merry is a grown up and entitled to make his own decisions. Gandalf may be the protector of the hobbits but he is not their guardian."

"In truth…" Dysgwr frowned a little as he considered this carefully. He had tended to think of both the halflings more as children, although he had been made aware that Merry at least had reached his majority. "In truth," he repeated, "the medication administered to Meriadoc was not just to drug him, although that is a side effect, it was for pain relief in the most part. So it would have been appropriate to give him that particular opiate."

"That's what it is though," Merry drew forth the bottle from the pocket of Pippin's britches that he was wearing, "it's opium, isn't it?"

"That is a mixture of opium and glaslichen," Dysgwr nodded. "Not pure opium."

"So did Gandalf say I should have opium?" Merry was a little bewildered at this; both Aragorn and the wizard had disapproved of Pippin taking too much poppy.

"Actually, it was first suggested by your little companion, um," Dysgwr searched for the name, "Peregrin, he even had his own supply."

"But…" Merry's next protest halted before it reached his lips as he considered this information. Pippin had given him opium? After the suicide pact they had made in Barad-dûr he hoped he would never encounter the drug again. But then Pippin had suffered from a very compelling addiction, craving it so badly during their journey that Merry had felt the need through their link. He also remembered the relief when Pippin had finally been given a small dose of Faramir's emergency ration. "Yes, I suppose Pip would think it to be the best thing for me when I was hurting so much."

"You were in a great deal of pain, Merry," Dysgwr said gently. He had grown very fond of the halfling while he had nursed him and more than a little protective. "We both wanted to save you from any unnecessary suffering."

"I'm sorry," Merry regretted his earlier resentment towards the healer who really had shown him nothing but kindness, "I did not mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that if Gandalf…"

"Merry!" Éowyn flung her good arm around the hobbit as Gaseg-Wen suddenly reared with a terrified whinny. Faramir's horse, Ceffyl-Ddu, stood stock still, his reins still tied to a tree and too petrified to move. Drâmym managed to rein in his steed and grab the lead rein they had attached to Diawl Goch as the horse snorted and rolled his eyes. Faramir drew an arrow and nocking it to his bow almost seamlessly, turned his aim to the sky and tried to locate the Nazgûl that had terrified their horses and cast a black shadow across the land.

Ŭnomer was struggling to keep his nerves and horse under control but the animal barged forward against Gaseg-Wen, making the mare rear again, this time unseating both Éowyn and Merry. They slid off backwards; clear of the horse's stomping hooves, the Shieldmaiden cushioning her smaller companion's fall, frantic that the hobbit would break the stitches of his wound with the impact.

"Merry! Stay down!" Éowyn threw her cloak over the hobbit as they heard the dreadful screech that heralded the Nazgûl. Merry struggled against the swathing of the garment, attempting to draw his sword until he remembered that he did not have one any longer, but still frantically trying see what was happening. Faramir loosed an arrow, but it was wide of the target as the Nazgûl wheeled in an arc, turning towards the small band and swooping down upon them.

Éowyn did not flinch from the prospect of fighting with such a deadly foe once more, but Faramir, re-shouldering his bow and drawing his sword, stood firmly before the woman and hobbit; prepared to battle to the last breath in their defence. Merry had managed to pull Éowyn's cloak off his head and had scrabbled up as far as his knees, a large rock, the best weapon he could find, in his hand. Drâmym and Ŭnomer were both struggling to control their steeds as well as Dysgwr's, while the healer himself was bent over the horse's neck and clinging frantically to the bridle, too terrified to look up at the deadly black shadow, the oppression in his mind making him lose all coherent thought.

As the winged beast carrying the hooded spectre reached the ground, the creature turned and snarled at the horses, making the four untethered steeds finally bolt frantically, carrying the three pursuers from Minas Tirith with them.

The Nazgûl dismounted his fearsome black beast to stand and tower over Faramir, his mace held high and the power of the shadow he cast almost overwhelming the man. "Give me the halfling!" The ghostly voice demanded, "I ask no more – just the halfling, then you may depart."

But Faramir stood firm. "You already know the answer," he snarled, "I would not yield the halfling, or any other under the protection of Gondor, to the servant of Sauron! Be gone and tax these innocents no longer!"

"Fool!" The wraith hissed sibilantly, "Gondor has no protection to offer – no more than you have, poor feeble mortal!" With that he swung his mace towards the man with a violent stroke. Faramir parried the blow with his sword, which became entangled in the chain of the weapon. The man caught hold of the ball of the mace and grasped it to his body tenaciously. 

Éowyn grasped her sword with both hands and moved to the side of the confrontation, seeing an opening through which she could strike, but waiting until she could manage a clear blow without injuring Faramir. Merry, meanwhile, still somewhat disoriented from his fall, crawled on his hands and knees around to the other side, still clutching his rock tightly, with Éowyn's cloak draped half across his back. He glanced around quickly to see what had happened to the others and to their horses, but all that was visible was a dust cloud in the distance.

The wraith, angered at Faramir's unorthodox strategy, raised his sword in his other hand and dropped the blade to a downward position, preparing to stab the man, who was too close for a normal strike, with a stabbing thrust, aimed at the back of his neck. 

As the stroke descended Éowyn's blade swung mightily across the wraith's sword, knocking the blow off course and out of the grasp of the gauntleted hand. As the great sword flew through the air Éowyn herself ducked to avoid the blade, then drew back to desperately plunge her own weapon into the hollow-seeming black cloak. 

Faramir could see that the blow had not found its mark as the enemy was not felled and, letting go of the ball of the mace, he stepped quickly back, drawing a handful of arrows from his quiver. Spinning upon his heel the man plunged the arrows into the still burning campfire and, as each caught light, retrieved and fired them into the spectre one after another.

A great shriek rose from the now writhing form as it fell to the ground and a great stench arose from the now flaming cloak. To the relief and amazement of both Éowyn and Faramir the flames subsided until there was nothing inside it but dust.

It had all taken a few blurred movements and the battle was over, even as Merry had managed to climb to his feet and stumble forward with his rock held ready to hurl or batter with if needed. But the wraith was gone – defeated. "Éowyn!" Merry gasped in obvious pain from the undue movement "Are you all right? Faramir you …aaiiieee!"

"Merry! Merry! No! Faramir, quickly do something!" Éowyn felt a flash of terror sear across her mind. It was from Merry, his link with her sparked by the shock of what had happened. But, just as suddenly, she felt him slam down a barrier, like a wall of bricks and mortar. She staggered with the mental impact of what he had done and she realised that he knew he must not mindspeak to any of what was happening, for fear that the Dark Lord would know. The turmoil, physical agony and petrified horror of his mind spiralled away from her as he firmly severed all links. 

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Esmeralda Brandybuck dropped a plate of buttered scones on the stone floor of the Brandy Hall kitchen, smashing the delicate crockery to a thousand pieces and scattering the delicacies in all directions. She clutched at her ribcage in terror and fainted clean away, gasping one word as she fell. Cook rushed over to her Mistress as fast as her bulk would allow. She heard the one anguished word fall from the pale lips, "Merry!"

Saradoc was saddling up his pony and two of the stable lads were helping, one holding the pony's headstall and the other the worn leather saddle, while the Master arranged the blanket across the pony's back. Suddenly the Master of Buckland let out a terrible cry, as if someone had stuck him with a knife. He dropped the blanket and wrapped his arms around his body as if in pain. Without any explanation to the two bemused lads, he gasped out "Meriadoc!" and strode from the stable to run across the courtyard to the kitchen door. There he found Esmeralda lying on the cold stone floor, her head cradled in Cook's lap, being fanned by a maid with a tea towel. 

On seeing her husband she struggled up and fell into his arms. "Oh no, Sara, did you see it too?"

"At least it means he is alive." Saradoc whispered to his distraught wife. "Merry lives, it is more than we had hoped for until now."

"Yes, but for how much longer?" Esmeralda whispered, "Did you see it? It was terrible – so frightening! Poor Merry, my poor dear child! What has he endured that has brought him to this?"

"I know, my dearest one, it is almost too much to bear." Saradoc kissed his wife's tears gently from her cheek. "But it means he is still thinking about us, I'm sure that's why he sent us that thought. Merry is a brave lad – he's a Brandybuck with your Took blood in his veins." Saradoc had always been proud of his son and now he was certain that Merry would face with fortitude the evil that beset him. "I know that he will do all in his power to overcome this peril." 

Esmeralda was still sobbing with fear for her lost one, "He felt so alone though, as if all had abandoned him." 

"Even if we never see him again, our dear child loves us both dearly and at that moment, whatever had happened, he needed us both and we were with him." Saradoc wished he had better words of comfort, "We must stay strong for him and keep hoping."

"But he was so afraid!" Esmeralda was inconsolable; at least with no news of Merry she had kept hope alive. But the vision she had shared with her husband was so terrifying, "why else would my dear baby have cried out to his mother that way? His anguish was too great for anyone to bear!"

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Merry's terror shot through him like a palpable thing. At first his mind reached out and clung to Éowyn, but almost immediately, even through his fear, he realised he must not mindlink with Éowyn, not now – the Dark Lord would find him and know! He slammed down a barrier that extended to all those he knew he should not communicate with for fear of being overheard; Pippin, Legolas, Sam, especially Frodo, even Gandalf. 

But his brain was in such turmoil he could not prevent it from crying out for help. The emotion of fear so electric that, in that split second, he thought he would die and knew above all others that he wanted his mother and his father. He wanted to tell them that he loved them and that he was sorry for going off without a word and he had tried to be a good son and honour his family name and most of all that he desperately missed them and would die happy if he could see them one more time. The thought reverberated around Merry's mind and in a shock of realisation for several seconds he was back at Brandy Hall and his parents were there, distraught and grieving for him. He tried to send another thought, to say they should not grieve, but the connection was brief and, all at once he was back in his nightmare that was all too real.

Éowyn could not believe her eyes. She was still breathing heavily with the exertion of the fight with the wraith, so when the Nazgûl's winged beast, seeing its master defeated, beat its wings and surged forward she had been unprepared. The hideous, dragon-like creature took off, leaving the ground with a screech. But before it flew off it made one more swoop and grabbed the unsuspecting hobbit in its great talons.

Faramir had reached for another arrow, only to find that he had used every one on the wraith and the shafts had all burned away in the fire that brought down that deadly creature.

Merry was lifted above the ground, at first kicking and struggling frantically and then, as the creature rose higher, keeping still for fear that he would be dropped. The sharp talons were large enough to encompass Merry completely about the waist although it was a tight fit and he was squeezed painfully in the iron grip of the claws. His wound began to throb and he suspected it would be bleeding again. At first he closed his eyes, terrified of the great height he was being dangled over, but then realised that he needed to know what was happening and where he was headed. In spite of the agony and gut-wrenching terror, he forced his eyes open.

Drâmym and Ŭnomer had control of their horses once more and were in pursuit of Diawl Goch, rounding him up with his helpless passenger, as they had had to do several times on the journey before. They caught and calmed the frantic horse, offering at the same time a few words of comfort to Dysgwr, still clinging desperately to the headstall and still muttering curses or prayers beneath his breath.

They were about to collect Gaseg-Wen when an horrific sight crossed their eyes. They saw Merry, their dear friend that had saved Drâmym's life so bravely, who had come through so many dreadful trials and perils, they saw him being carried off by the hideous winged beast. The little hobbit looked like a lamb snatched up by a dragon as he hung helplessly from the creature's talons.

"It's too high, we'll never reach him!" Ŭnomer gasped. "We need some rope, then perhaps we can cast a loop about the creature."

"I have none," Drâmym was already reining his steed around for the chase, "but let us follow as swiftly as we can. At least we should know where it goes, or if it should drop little Merry..." the man stopped as he realised that he did not want to entertain that thought.

Without another word the two Riders of Rohan abandoned Dysgwr and took off with all speed across the bleak plain after the winged beast and its captive.

"Rope?" Everything was happening too fast for Dysgwr, he had not even regained his composure from being carried off by Diawl-Goch, "Rope?" He repeated the word out loud to himself in a bemused fashion. Suddenly the sense of it hit him. They needed rope to try and catch the dragon-like beast that had flown off with Merry. A foolhardy mission for certain. They had no hope of catching up to it and surely, once it flew over rocky terrain and into Mordor they would lose it altogether.

But little Merry! The healer realised that, hopeless though it may be, they had to try. "Rope?" he muttered again. Then he remembered! He had the rope that belonged to the halflings, the 'magnic' rope as the other halfling had described it. He reached into his bag that was slung across the horse's neck and pulled the silvery rope out, looping it around his neck so that he could use both hands to ride.

Bravely gathering up the reins, Dysgwr frantically tried to remember what he had been told to do. He urged Diawl-Goch forward with a slight kick and found a trot, then sat down hard in the saddle, squeezing with both legs at the same time. As the pace increased he resisted the urge to try and pull up, but concentrated on steering the horse after Drâmym and Ŭnomer, using his legs as much as possible, but also pulling the reins around until the horse got the right idea of where to go. 

Dysgwr would never have caught the two Riders, but as they saw him give chase, Ŭnomer turned back to see what was up. "Rope! I have a rope!" he shouted frantically. The Rohan Rider did not wait for niceties, but rode swiftly to the healer, seized the rope from about his neck and took off again in pursuit of his companion.

As he rode, Ŭnomer managed to fashion a loop from the rope, in fact he was amazed at how easily he accomplished the feat whilst riding at full pelt with no hands. The knot was neatly tied and the loop could be loosened and tightened to perfection. 

Ŭnomer urged his steed on to greater speed, needing to catch up with Drâmym as well as the winged beast and it seemed, now he had the rope, that his horse was imbued with a fresh spirit, ready for a chase rather than nervous and exhausted as he had been before. He quickly drew level with his companion and, at that moment, the winged beast wheeled around as if it would fly down and attack its pursuers. This was exactly what the two Riders had hoped for. As the creature flew shrieking towards them, Drâmym's mount reared and bucked and a lesser rider would have been unseated, but he was left with little control over the poor frightened horse. 

Ŭnomer had fully expected his steed to behave in the same way, but, to his amazement the creature remained calm, even as the winged beast, still clutching Merry tightly in its claws, flew at them, screeching with a terrible voice that would still the heart and freeze the blood of the bravest warrior. Ŭnomer, however felt a warmth radiate through him, starting with the hand that clutched the silvery rope. He realised then that the rope was humming softly and glowing a little.

There was no time to be astonished or frightened. Ŭnomer swung the rope over his head in a wide circle and let the loop soar up and over the descending beast. His aim was so accurate that he found it hard to believe himself, but Ŭnomer's toss of the rope had fallen cleanly over the beast's neck and he caught a tight hold of the rope, urging his horse backwards, trying to pull the fell beast to the ground. 

But as soon as the rope touched the beast, it screamed as if scalded and reared up again, still keeping a tight hold of Merry as it rose higher. Ŭnomer hung on desperately but gradually as the beast bucked and fought against it, the rope, before the man could wrap it around the pommel of the saddle, was pulled through his fingers. "No! No!" Ŭnomer could not fail, he had been so close, but the rope, in spite of its apparent earlier co-operation, now seemed to slip away from him and eventually he lost his grip altogether as the evil creature ascended higher and wheeled away, across the mountains into Mordor.

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

No author's notes this chapter, but beta notes instead! In honour of my return to the Shire, Llinos has suggested that I do the notes for this chapter rather than hang annoyingly over her shoulder, dictating any comments that I might want to have included. My notes may not be as witty as hers, but the fact that she is on the other computer working on a chapter of Recaptured! should make up for it!

Llinos: Just one quick word from me… The quick trip to the Shire was actually inspired by Marigold bullying me! She doesn't just beta you know, sometimes she poses as the muse as well! (and makes me tea and brings me biccies!)

lindelea: Whew. very nice, except for the fact that i must wait for more.  
Marigold: It's annoying having to wait for more, isn't it? Now that I'm here she'll buckle down and write faster. (Poke, poke!)

Sandy Kay: OK, I admit it. I started, and then finished, reading Recaptured about a month ago. Wanted to write a nice, long review, but I was so overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the plot that I didn't know where to start!  
Marigold: Isn't it a fantastic tale? I am so glad that you read it! The plot yet to come is amazing, exciting and terribly complex so stay tuned!

nitedancer: keep up the good work and write, write, write. I can't wait for every new chapter, It's killing me waiting for them.  
Marigold: Telling Llinos to write faster from L.A. wasn't working to my satisfaction so I have flown 8,000 miles to poke at her with my stickses in person. I'll keep her chained to her computer desk in shackles if I must! She must realise that we can't have the readers keeling over from lack of updates!

hole_dweller: I've read the first hundred and something chapters during the course one weekend a while ago.  
Marigold: Wow, I bet that took the entire weekend! Thanks! We are both glad that you liked it…  
hole_dweller: Oh, nearly forgot to mention my favourite orcs, I think yours is the first story where I've come across orcs portrayed in any other way than pure evil.  
Marigold: There are a lot more of our favourite orcs coming up soon…Smagnu and Grutfley, Snig and Blog, and of course Groll the troll. You won't believe the plans Llinos has for these guys! You won't be disappointed I'm certain of it, though your jaw may hit the floor.  
hole_dweller: "I miss Merry!" This was just beautiful, I love how it highlights how much Merry means to him. He seems to be the only thing that can make him forget the Ring and this sentence being the first unmuddled one which he has spoken for such a long time…  
Marigold: Wasn't that lovely? It made me get tears in my eyes…Hope you visit us both on LJ when you get a chance. We are listed as Llinos and Marigoldg.

Sakura123: Keep Writing!  
Marigold: Oh, she will! I am harassing her constantly, trust me.

: ) : Of course it is starting to look like he may see his dear cousin sooner then anyone was anticipating!  
Marigold: Do you still think so after this latest chapter, lol? We'll have to wait and see what happens to poor Merry. I don't know how he'll get out of this one…

: ) : I noticed earlier at least you were planning on this to be a 150 chapter story, are you still aiming for that or has it changed?  
Marigold: I won't let her stop with less than 150, and being in the same house now will help me to get my way!

QTPie-2488: Heh, quite an interesting Merry/Eowyn scene in this chapter.  
Marigold: I admit to making Llinos put that in. I mean, how many times has Eowyn seen Merry naked after all? It seemed to me to be the only fair thing to do, lol! 

QTPie-2488: This plot line just gets more and more twisted, and even more exciting.  
Marigold: And it's just going to get better…believe it or not, the twists and excitement have barely started!

Xena: when Frodo had his realization as to what was going on, chills went up my spine.  
Marigold: Be prepared for extreme chills in the upcoming chapters…

Periadoc: And Pippin! The poor thing...is he really gonna have to destroy the One Half Ring of power?  
Marigold: Consider the deviousness of the author.  
Periadoc: things are getting very complicated precious, yes very complicated  
Marigold: You've got that right – Llinos and I have just finished discussing various complicated plotlines and twists in order to figure out what a particular character's next movements should be. It's taking both of us to keep track of all that's going on!

august wynd: ah brilliance  
Marigold: Llinos really is brilliant, isn't she!

Pearl Took: Once again you lead us to the edge of the cliff.  
Marigold: And she is about to push us over the edge.

Shirebound: Uh oh, they're both poppy-ized again. I hope Gondor has a rehab clinic set up.  
Marigold: Actually, I think if Pip and Sam ever get together again, Pippin is probably going to ask him whether poppies will grow in the Shire or not!

Dear Reader: Aw, come on -- how come Faramir didn't get to bite off the knots on Eowyn's bodice?  
Marigold: He'll get his chance after the wedding I'm sure! If he gets that lucky!

Baylor: "Merry!" Éowyn clasped her hands across her bosom as the lacings finally came completely undone. "You are a tease, as well as a bad hobbit."   
Ahahahaha! Merry's a naughty hobbit, isn't he?!  
Marigold: You should know, lol! Everyone out there make sure to read Baylor's very funny story "Did I Say Bosom" which I am proud to have inspired!  
Baylor: I got mentioned so many times in your notes that I feel like a big star! I may become even more intolerably big-headed than I already am.  
Marigold: Look, I mentioned you again! What's your size in hats now?

Sam: I felt so bad for Pip. He doesn't understand what everyone wants from him and when he does get it right it's too heartbreaking!  
Marigold: Hi Sam! Look, I am doing the notes! I feel so important! You are right about Pippin – there is so much pressure on him and he just wants to do the right thing, but doing the right thing is not going to be easy, especially with everything that is coming up in the next bits.

meatball: I can't wait to see what happens!! MORE MORE MORE MORE!  
Marigold: We can't wait to see what happens either!

Pip4: I like how you got Frodo and Sam into this  
Marigold: You can expect lots more Frodo and Sam in the chapters coming up.

Unhobbity hobbit: I've been contemplating reading this story for weeks, but the length always put me off, but I finally got really bored with nothing else to do and read the whole of it.  
Marigold: And it was worth it, wasn't it? Welcome to the story!

Eldarin Queen: sorry in being so late in reviewing  
Marigold: Better late than not at all! Do you guys know that an average of 500 plus people read each and every chapter of this story, and yet look at the percentage of you who take a moment to review. Llinos and I both appreciate it so much when readers leave a comment. Glad that you liked the chapter!

pippin-the-thain: omg! i cant believe i didn't read this story b4! i wish i could have joined in with all the reviews  
Marigold: At least you've read it now! And please join in the reviews on the upcoming chapters. There is a lot more story to go, don't worry.

Tasha: Oh, and Merry, Eowyn and her lacings—LOL.  
Marigold: I loved that part! I am glad that you liked it, too!

ssi 3 Thomas: ALL HAIL MERIADOC THE MAGNIFICANT  
Marigold: We both agree with you there! Huzzah for Merry!

Stef: Quick Marigold, poke her more!!  
Marigold: It is too fun actually being here so that I can give her a poke for real instead of just virtually!

Llinos: Ow! gerrrof! 


	28. Cat and Mouse

Cat and Mouse  
Recaptured – Chapter 120 

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Well, Merry! Thank goodness I have found you!" Pippin realised with a curious unsurprise that he was talking normally again. He was standing on the edge of the battlefield in front of the Black Gate and Merry was before him, looking pale and distant. "Poor Merry! How glad I am to see you again! But you are worn out, and I won't bother you with any talk."

Merry made no reply but swayed slightly to and fro, not seeming to see Pippin at all.

"Merry? It is going to be all right. Lean on me Merry lad!" Pippin tried to take Merry's arm and drape it over his shoulder, but it seemed insubstantial and just melted away from his touch. "Come along, we have to walk back to the Shire. It's not far, foot by foot, Merry, foot by foot."

Merry made no move. His body seemed to become almost wraith-like, wrapped in a grey swirling mist and with no substance. "Come on Merry," Pippin cajoled, "or we'll be late for Yule! 

Merry shook his head sadly and held out his hands, palms upward. Slowly he turned his hands over and lifted his arms up towards his body as if in surrender, taking a step backwards at the same time. 

"Merry what's wrong?" Pippin stepped towards him, "You don't want to miss Yule do you? It will be splendid to spend another Yule together. Where shall it be? Great Smials or Brandy Hall? We'll eat well either way. Don't you want it to be Yule, Merry? We can watch the children unwrapping their presents from Thluggul the Yuletide Dragon, just like you used to watch me. Do you remember Merry? Perhaps Thluggul will beat his wings hard enough that he'll send the snow off the mountaintop and cover The Shire. Remember how you told me the story Merry? Merry?"

This time at least Merry nodded, but his expression of sadness did not change. He lifted his arms up to the skies now and Pippin watched in wonder as clouds of snowflakes began to float gently around him, landing in his hair and dotting his clothes with white. He looked like the figure in the little globe his Great Aunt Violet kept on her mantelpiece. Pippin loved to be allowed to pick it up and shake it to make the snow fall. Gradually the snowstorm turned to a blizzard and Merry could hardly be seen.

"Merry don't go!" Pippin cried out in anguish as his cousin became enveloped in the blinding white screen. "What about Thluggul? You'll miss the presents!"

Pippin's eyes suddenly shot open wide, his eyebrows vanishing underneath the brown curls on his forehead. A magnificent purple and green dragon, with silvery tinged scales swooped down from above and grabbed poor Merry in his claws. "Ha!" The dragon, who had to be Thluggul, cried, "here's my present!"

"MERRY!" Pippin screamed the name as he sat bolt upright in his nest of blankets and fleece that he slept in on the journey. The perspiration poured from his head and he was breathing fast and in terror. "Merry?" Pippin whimpered his cousin's name the second time, as Legolas swiftly found him in the darkness and held him near, soothing his damp curls gently off his face and rocking him slightly to calm the panic that he could feel pounding through Pippin's pulse.

"Dreamerings in We head, Legolas," Pippin panted the words as much to explain to himself as to the elf. "It Merry! He go be in We head and… and… it just go be dreamerings – do be it?"

Legolas squeezed Pippin's arm, his signal to the hobbit for yes, and continued to rock him gently.

"Hrrump! Wha… what's amiss?" Pippin's shout had woken up Gimli and he was fumbling for a light. "Are you ill young Peregrin?" Gimli managed to locate their small lantern and lit it with his tinderbox and held it high, illuminating the inside of the tent. 

"We go get We bad dreamerings, Gimli." Pippin explained again. "We not hurted or no things like that."

"Hmp! Just as well, I thought you were… erm ill or something." Gimli went to extinguish the light and then paused. "Do you want me to leave the lantern for you?"

"Please Gimli, perhappens We not go get such bad thinkings and We can go see." Pippin explained.

Gimli set the lantern down by Legolas and Pippin then clambered back into his own bedroll. "Not having much luck with the talking then I hear," he muttered tentatively. He knew that Pippin got upset about his lack of language skills at the moment, but there had been some progress and now it seemed to be slipping back again. "Did you practice like Gandalf told you?"

"Did pracsis Gimli," Pippin squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and tried to remember to use short simple words and leave out personal nouns and pronouns altogether, but it was difficult and the dream about Merry had shaken him badly. "Not… thinked when go waken up with dream bad. Too much be frighted."

"Frightened," Gimli corrected. 

"Yes, frightended." Pippin agreed.

"Yes, well… you get some sleep now." Gimli turned over and in a few moments was snoring himself.

Pippin was still too shaken to rest and was happy to burrow up against Legolas, enjoying the physical closeness of the elf which had a resonance about it, especially as the two had become such friends. He tried a little more of the practice Gandalf had prescribed to improve his speaking, quietly, so as not to wake Gimli again. It was a half remembered nursery rhyme, learnt on the wizard's knee when Pippin was a mite, just learning to talk.

"Once time was a catimus,  
big and round go fatimus,  
caught itself a mousimus,  
round and bout a housimus,  
tried he go and eatums,  
it not be so sweetums,  
then he let it go-a-gens,  
not more that We know o' thems."

Pippin could feel Legolas shaking slightly and suddenly realised he was chuckling. "What you go laughering at We Legolas?" 

_'Pippin?'_

"Not think we got go talk in We heads Legolas." The two had still been warned against mind speaking communication. Gandalf suspected that Pippin might not be in a good enough mental condition to protect himself and Legolas was certainly not at his best.

_'Listen carefully:'_ Legolas decided that a correct rendition of Gandalf's nursery rhyme would not do any great damage, except perhaps to his own personal sanity.

_'Once there was a catto,  
Big and round and fatto,  
He caught a tiny mousie,  
Running round the housey,  
But the little treat  
Was not sweet enough to eat  
So he let it go,  
And that's all that I know!_

"Hmm," Pippin frowned at the words, "that's what We sayed! Not it?" He looked up at Legolas and saw, in the light of the lantern, the elf solemnly shake his head. "Oh, well We liked We's words bettrer." Legolas squeezed the hobbit's arm in agreement once more.

"We go try 'nothrer singings." Pippin declared. "One We knows more gooder."

Whispering tunefully Pippin began:

"Oh oh oh it bockle We goes,  
Heal We hearts, go drown We woes,  
Rain go falls, wind go blows,  
We still get, all the miles We goes."

Pippin paused to look up at his friend. Legolas drew his lips together and shook his head again, it still was not quite right. Pippin sighed deeply. "We do go make big tries Legolas." The elf hugged him close and kissed the top of his curly head. "Not knowed why it not go comed out good when We speaks. Do think it good, in We heads, then it go grumble jumble when We says things." 

Legolas put his hands over Pippin's ears and then tapped his lips. "Not forgetted Legolas, it go be long and long times We not heared and speaks, but Gandalf sayed it go bettrer soon and it not. Not undrerdstanded why it not go bettrer yet. It whole big week go and We be talk like in We minds still do."

Legolas squeezed 'yes' once more.

"We knows not speak good elftalk and We not talk in We heads good like Legolas, but why We still do head talk in We outlouds?" Pippin remembered that Legolas had explained the reason he and Merry could not speak properly in mindspeak was their lack of skill with Sindarin, which also explained why, when he had briefly heard Frodo, his speech was much better since his older cousin did speak some of the Elven language. 

But there was more. Pippin fingered the Ring hung around his neck, in much the same way Frodo was wont to do. The growing attachment he felt for the odd piece of jewellery that had appeared mysteriously around his neck in the night seemed to be making his speech more muddled than ever. Perhaps it was because it had made him isolated and suspicious of almost everyone but Legolas and Merry. And Merry was not with him and Legolas could not speak or see. Pippin felt very lonely.

"Legolas, can you do littlel talk at We in We heads again," Pippin wheedled, "just sings We song and…"

"Pippin!" Gandalf's stern rebuke made the hobbit jump half out of his skin with fright. "What did I tell you about mindspeaking?"

"Same as We telled you about creepering up on We!" Pippin was startled but not abashed. "You go make We scarded as cattimus's mousimus!"

"What are you talking about Pippin?" Gandalf was half irritated and half amused. "Never mind, just don't let me catch you mindspeaking again."

"Not gone let you catch We." Pippin muttered.

"Did you take some poppy?" Gandalf asked, kneeling down to take Pippin gently by the shoulders and look carefully into his face. "Are you wide awake?"

"Not didn't go take none." Pippin said coyly, "It most goned way now. We save last bit. Do you go get We some?" He added hopefully.

Gandalf frowned as he worked his way through all the negatives to see how it came out, but, as soon as Pippin asked him for more, he realised the hobbit had not taken any, as his supply was dwindling. "No, I am not a travelling apothecary Pippin and I am pleased you have not taken any as you may need your wits today. It is almost dawn and the three of you need to awaken. I need your witness."

Gimli had awoken at the wizard's voice and was stretching hugely, "I am happy to serve as a witness, Gandalf." He nodded towards Legolas, "but…"

"Legolas may hear what is spoken and that is all that is required. He must represent the Silvan folk for there is no other here." Gandalf placed a hand on the elf's shoulder and Legolas closed his hand over the wizard's in acceptance.

"What it be We got go see?" Pippin asked with some trepidation, "Not no things bad?"

"I cannot tell yet, Pippin." Gandalf said quietly, "A deputation from the Army will ride to the Black Gate this morning and issue our challenge to Sauron. What will happen then there is no telling." He put an arm around the hobbit's shoulders, "Do not fear, you shall ride with me on Shadowfax, I shall not let any evil befall you."

***********************************************************************************************************

In his brief moment of total panic, Merry had very nearly screamed out in his mind to every other being he had ever connected with in mindspeak, but, just in time, he had managed to throw up a barrier as solid as a stone wall to prevent any of them hearing his cry or knowing his peril. Some residue had seeped away though. Pippin, in his subconscious, had seen an image of Merry being snatched and born away by a great winged creature, but it would only return to him later in sleep as a nightmare. His parents had actually felt the brunt of Merry's fear and the hobbit felt the echoes of their anguish reverberate back to him. It was only a brief moment but so vivid, his father in the stable, saddling his pony and his mother in the kitchen, dropping a plate. Merry gulped as he had not intended, or even known, that he could reach them in that way. It was fired by his terror of the moment.

As the great talons held him tightly around his middle, he watched the ground fall further away and saw Drâmym and Ŭnomer give chase. Merry was as afraid of the height they were flying at as he was of the creature that held him and his stomach lurched as the stinking foetid beast suddenly turned and flew shrieking downwards at its pursuers. 

It seemed for a while that Ŭnomer would capture the beast. He had a rope around its neck and was pulling valiantly. But the beast pulled and fought back with a great strength and eventually dragged the rope clear and ascended once more into the air, turning again towards the mountains that separated Mordor from Gondor. 

Merry's wound was throbbing with the pressure of the beast's claws, but he was more afraid that if he struggled the creature might lessen its grip and he would plummet to his death, so he kept as still as he could, in spite of the agony and terror that coursed through his petrified body. Vaguely, through the pain and fear, he wondered whether the fell beast considered him a prisoner or dinner.

It was as this careless thought danced across his brain that Merry suddenly became aware that the rope Ŭnomer had thrown around the beast's neck was still there, the end of it brushed against him several times, carried by the draught of wind caused by their flight. The next time the rope came near to him, Merry managed to grab hold of it and wrap it several times around his wrists. At least that way, he thought, if the beast did let go of him he would not fall to his death on the ground below. Was that worse than being eaten? Merry decided not to think too hard about that for the moment.

Watching the ground below made Merry feel distinctly sick but, in spite of this, he watched Drâmym and Ŭnomer become distant dots and then gradually vanish from sight. As they reached the mountains that bordered Mordor, the creature wheeled and banked once more as it executed a sharp turn to the north. Merry really was sick now, as his stomach lurched with the lack of gravity and added pressure on his abdomen caused by the beast tightening its grip as it changed direction.

They were flying faster now and in the distance Merry could make out large swathes of black insects. As they drew nearer, the hobbit realised, with horror, the vast swarms of black creatures were in fact great battalions of orcs. Wave upon wave of the enemies' armies passed beneath them as they flew further and further northwards.

Merry clutched tightly on to the rope as the hideous, stinking bird changed direction once more and began to descend. In the distance Merry could see other, similar creatures, although the three that were ahead of him were all ridden by Nazgûl. He shut his eyes in a numb resignation of his fate, whether it be the prey of the monster that had carried him off or a helpless victim of the Dark Lord and his servants, Merry did not expect to see the end of this day. 

***********************************************************************************************************

"No! Merry No! No! No!" Éowyn beat her fists helplessly against Faramir's broad shoulder. "Do something! We have to do something!"

"Milady," Faramir caught hold of the little wrists, wondering at how such a delicate bone structure could have delivered the mighty blow that laid low the Witch-king. "Éowyn! Stop! Think! There is nothing we can do. Not at the moment. We cannot follow into Mordor. The creature has flown off to the mountains, what can we do? It is hopeless."

"After all he has been through!" Éowyn could not help herself, she sank to the ground, her head dropping into her hands, and began to weep. "Merry, my poor Merry, no… no it cannot be!"

Faramir felt his own eyes grow hot with tears. The thought of what the tiny hobbit must be suffering in the claws of that dread beast was appalling. "Éowyn, can you sense Merry at all? In your head I mean? Is he …" Words failed the man as the enormity struck him that it might actually be better if Merry were **_not_** still alive.

Éowyn drew a deep tear-laden sigh, as she realised that Faramir was as distressed as she and needed to know what she knew. As she looked up to speak, Drâmym and Ŭnomer arrived towing Dysgwr and Gaseg-Wen. "He… he started to speak to me, in my mind." Éowyn gulped the tears back now, "but… but oh Captain, he was so brave, my little warrior! He shut his mind down so that he would not give anything away to the Enemy, but yes, he lives yet, I feel him still. Not clearly but just as a tiny spark in the distance."

"My Lady," Drâmym and Ŭnomer both dismounted and helped Dysgwr to the ground as well. While Ŭnomer held the horses, Drâmym knelt before Éowyn, his head bowed in respect and apology. "My Lady, we're so sorry. We tried to follow, but we failed." Drâmym felt his voice quiver with emotion. "I failed – both you and Meriadoc. He saved my life and I could not save his. There are no words to express my sorrow."

"Nor mine," Ŭnomer passed the reins to Dysgwr and fell to his knees beside his comrade, "we dare not ask for forgiveness, there is nothing that can mend this wrong."

"This is no time for passing out blame." Éowyn took a strengthening breath. "We all would have saved Merry if it were possible." She bent and took Drâmym's hand with her good one, "Rise up Riders of Rohan, both. We are not defeated. Merry lives yet, and although he may die, I know he will do so bravely and not disgrace his honour as Swordthain to the King. Come we still have a great task to perform."

Éowyn wished that she could have offered whole-hearted forgiveness to Drâmym and Ŭnomer – both the loyal Kings men were torn by guilt and remorse at the loss of their comrade and friend, but, at the moment, her own heart felt cloven in two, she would have to forgive herself first for Merry's loss and she doubted she ever could.

The two Riders rose to their feet at the Lady's command, "but where should we go now?" Ŭnomer asked, "our mission has failed. We were to bring the healer to Meriadoc, that is now beyond us."

"The next battle I suspect will be fought closer to the gates of Mordor than Minas Tirith." Faramir told them grimly. "I think you will serve your people, and mine, better to ride to that war. And you, Master Dysgwr," Faramir turned to the healer who seemed too numbed and shocked to even speak, "Your presence will no doubt be welcomed indeed in the aftermath of war."

***********************************************************************************************************

_'Move! Small thing! Smell meat! Food! Eat!' _

Bloodclaw had watched with detachment as her Rider had engaged in battle with the white maggots upon the ground. She always watched her Master's fights expectantly as often she was allowed to feast upon the carcass.

But this time something different had happened. Her Master had fallen! The maggots had thrown the red tongues at her Rider and he had vanished. The beast felt her Master dissolve and diminish – he would not be mounting her to ride back to the safety of her roost in the cave. 

Still she was hungry. The maggots had vanquished Master, there was no carrion to assuage the craving in her gut. The maggots were fierce, with cruel steel in their hands. But there was a small one! Upon the ground, it was moving – she liked her meat to move. It smelled right! She did not consider it further but let instinct take her to the prey.

With a shriek she swarmed forward and seized it in her powerful claws. _'Rip! Tear! Wriggle!'_ It struggled helplessly in her grip. The feeling excited her and she squeezed the talons more tightly, subduing it, feeling its fear, smelling its terror. Eventually, as she soared towards the waiting clouds, it became still, its anxiety palpable and exciting.

Maggots gave chase below. She turned and swooped at them, screeching her defiance. A rope was hurled. It caught about her neck and burned into the blackened gnarled scales. But her armour was thick and, although the pain was great, it did not burn through. Maddened with agony she fought the pull of the maggot on the other end and wrenched the reins from its hands. 

The rope taxed her, but she would not stop. She had her prey and would guard it jealously. Meat was frequently shared with other beasts of her kind. The orcs would cut chunks of flesh and divide it up between them. But live prey was special! It could be played with and eaten slowly, tearing off small pieces at a time. Her instinct told her that this live meat could sustain her chicks for several days if it was carefully preserved. She had no chicks to feed, but her nature bade her practice against the possibility. The creatures of which she was a scion would know that living flesh must be made to excrete in order for it to be clean enough to eat. Carefully they had instilled in their young the importance of tormenting all fluids and waste from their food. Although she had lost the reason of this, still she knew the delight of teasing her victims to death before she tore them to pieces. She did not know why, but she knew it enhanced the flavour and the pleasure.

As she neared her roost she heard shouting and saw orcs pointing up at her. Two of her kind flew near, still with their riders aboard. She screeched her protest at them, warning that they should leave her to finish her catch in peace. Tightening her grip further on the small delicacy she wheeled away from the snatching jaws of her kind. Already her meal had ejected the contents of its stomach, she smelt the vomit upon it. She was excited still further when it threw up again and could barely wait to find her solitary corner to begin to hold it down and tear pieces from the morsel.

The riders upon the other two beasts harried and turned her, pushing her towards the penned in cave that held the winged creatures when not in service. She had not wanted to go straight to her pen, but had hoped to roost in the caves above, where her master sometimes let her go when she had live prey. But relentlessly she was rounded up by the other two, until, fearing her morsel might be snatched from her, she allowed herself to be guided to the cave with the iron gates.

Once inside, she dropped the helpless creature in a far corner and turned to snarl her possession of it to her stable mates. But they were not allowed to follow her in and the gates were slammed shut on her with a great clang. She dipped her head to worry at the burning, scratching rope around her neck, but even as her great beak stabbed at it, it came loose and fell away. She watched, her head on one side, as the rope slithered towards the quivering creature on the ground, instinctively making a grab at the shiny, moving thing, but missing.

"Oi! Come and see!" A raucous orc voice yelled excitedly across the enclosed area outside the caves where the fell beasts were temporarily housed for the imminent battle. "Claw's gone and got herself a little elf or summat. She's gonna eat it any minute."

"Let's 'ave a gander!" 

"Cor' she'll 'ave some fun wiv that 'un!"

Bloodclaw turned to her prey again and, beating her wings rapidly, rose as high off the ground as the roof of the cave permitted. She pounced down on the little creature, catching it in her talons and dropping it again with a loud screech.

The orcs started laying wagers.

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TBC

Author's Notes:   
I had a comment recently that Pippin's father was not Thain when Pippin was born. According to dates in the genealogy tables this is true. Also if the History of Middle Earth is to be believed, when Pearl "accidentally" offed The matriarchal Took, it was Thain Ferumbras who inherited the title. Be that as it may, in my alternate universe things happened a little differently, with Paladin being offered both the titles on the production of a son with all working parts in order. This is expounded upon in the story, Big Enough to Be Thain and all references to Paladin as Thain within Recaptured should be referred there.

I now return you to your normal service.

Llinos

Author's Note Additional

Many thanks for all the reviews – things aren't going to ease off in the foreseeable future I'm afraid and it's all going to get worse before it gets even slightly better. Sorry!

Llinos and Marigold

On to the Questions and Smarty Pants Answers

:) Okay, maybe Merry and Pippin won't be reunited very soon  
Llinos: It's coming, it's coming! The rest of the plot has to fit in there somewhere.

:) Anxious for more!  
Llinos: Well you did the right thing! You reviewed!

Xena: Coaxing a troll to spit in a pot so they can use it in their brew... that's not something you see happen everyday!  
Llinos: Depends who you keep company with.

Xena: My absolute favourite part of this chapter was that Merry cried out for his parents, and that they felt his pain and knew he was in trouble.  
Llinos: Okay – I'll say this now for the first and last time as I am a jealous author – this was Marigold's idea! Well I suppose she's allowed to suffer from brilliance every so often! Oh and thanks for the lovely long review.

FantasyFan: _Lots of good stuff!_  
Llinos: I live for long and detailed reviews – they give me the chance to enjoy my own story in a backwards kind of way. As folk say to me – Write more! 

Samwise the Strong: NO! Not Merry!  
Llinos: Well now, what would people say if I'd done it to Pippin? I ask you!

A Nonny Mouse: _List of what you liked!_  
Llinos: Yay! And you're happy at the end of the list. Yay!

Kookaburra: Heh- somehow I think my calf-roping experiences would have gone better if I'd had a magnic rope.  
Llinos: From what you tell us, I doubt it. Besides even Ŭnomer goofed up at the end.

sam: don't think I'll eat even then. Very graphic and gross Orc section.  
Llinos: Marigold smacked me for that bit – but I wouldn't take it out! Bad author! Making readers ill! Bad – bad! ATTENTION: Everyone go and read Sam's first story: "Of Guilt and Hobbits" it's on ff.net, under author name, camilliatook.

Shireling: 15 hours of intense concentration to get through all 127 chapters!  
Llinos: Wah! I only wrote 119!

Shireling: Gandalf as a drug pusher is just a little too OCC!  
Llinos: What? As opposed to Gandalf who sends Frodo off with the most dangerous piece of jewellery in ME with just his gardener? Gandalf who leads the company through Moria and into the jaws of orcs and the Balrog? No I see Gandalf as very expedient and if encouraging Pippin to take a little opium would save Middle Earth – I think he'd do it. Besides he's not exactly pushing the stuff – it was Aragorn that gave it to him and Faramir, then Legolas, who topped him up. Gandalf is not, and never was, the supplier.

**_Additional Llinos to Everyone Note:_** If there are any impressionable kids out there who are reading about Pippin's opium addiction, may I just say, Pippin is very naughty for taking opiates, but he started it innocently as a pain relief and got hooked. That's what can happen if you take narcotics – so don't. Pippin will meet a bad end if he doesn't stop soon – but at least he has me to write him out of trouble – you may not be so lucky!

Eldarin Queen: Merry, hasn't he suffered enough already with out being taken back to Sauron!   
Llinos: Why yes he has – but it's not Sauron's fault – Merry is just doing lunch with the fell beast!

Aelfgifu: Do you think that your loveliest of betas could link an illustration page if I set one up? Cause if she can, I will make one  
Llinos: Hi Emma, It's not the beta, it's the Moria's Revenge co-author you have to talk nicely to on that one – Kookaburra is the clever linking person who built my website! I'm happy to link if she'll do the honours.

Sandy Kay: having Merry reach out to his mother and father when he had nowhere else to turn was absolutely inspired!  
Llinos: Oh all right then – well done Marigold! Nice bit of inspiration!  
QTPie: can't believe it- a totally pippin-less chapter!  
Llinos: Ah well spotted QT! No one else seemed to miss him much though, but he's back in form this time and won't be missing again in the near future.

pippin-the-thain: That was pure brilliance with Saradoc and Esmarelda  
Llinos: To quote Gandalf – "Thrice shall pay for all!" Well done Marigold – for the third and positively last time!

Baylor: but the gem here is the story about Bilbo and young Sam.  
Llinos: Like the best stories – it's true. It was an incident that happened between my uncle and his gardener – of course my uncle's gardener didn't cry and there was no Frodo to comfort him – just my Mum to assure him Dr Smith (my uncle) wasn't cross or upset.


	29. Shreds of Doubt

Shreds of Doubt

Recaptured – Chapter 121

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold 

"Whass that?" Sam clutched at Frodo's arm as he heard the scraping noise once more. "There's something out there!"

"Hush Sam," Frodo squinted into the darkness trying to make out the dark shape that seemed to flicker from rock to rock. "I thought at first it was just the shadows, but now I see it's not."

"Perhaps it's an orc," Sam drew his sword, ready to defend his master to the death, "or even that wretch Gollum."

"I think it is Sam," Frodo put his hand on Sam's sword arm, pushing it down, "Sméagol? Is that you? Come here, come to Master."

"Don't do that Mr Frodo!" Sam was even more alarmed at the thought of Gollum being close by than he was at the prospect of doing battle with an orc. At least he could fight an orc and not have to bandy words with it or give it the benefit of the doubt the way Frodo might again do with that benighted creature. "He's a danger Mr Frodo, he's already betrayed you once – don't let him near again."

"I don't trust him either Sam," Frodo said gently, "but better to have him close at hand and know what he is up to than to be in fear of his approach all through our wait."

"I'm not so sure of that, Mr Frodo." Sam raised his sword once more. "He was almost the death of you before, he'll pull some wicked trick again or my name's not Samwise Gamgee!"

"Sam, I know." Frodo stood now and stepped out into the darkness beyond their hiding place beneath the overhang of rock. "But what else would you suggest? I prefer to know where he is than not, so we must either kill him or endure him. There is no other choice and I have no stomach for killing him, therefore we must tolerate him." Frodo turned balefully back to Sam, his eyes so full of sorrow and pity that Sam melted, "It won't be for long now – just until Pippin gets here."

"Masster whass he doing here? Iss waiting for hiss Sméagol?" The whining voice brought back to both the hobbits the dreadful treachery of the creature and froze both their hearts as they remembered Cirith Ungol. "Wicked Masster he's tricksy, waiting for Sméagol to trap him and beats him again."

"You're the tricksy one!" Sam spat out in ill-concealed temper. "Leading Mr Frodo into that great spider's lair! I ought to put an end to you right now!" He lifted his sword and brandished it as if to strike. 

But Gollum fell on the ground at their feet, his bravado vanished at the sight of the cold blade, "Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yess live just a little longer. Lost, lost! We're losst. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust." He clawed up the ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers, "Dusst!" he hissed.

Sam's hand wavered. He was angry and filled with righteous indignation at the terrible danger the filthy sneak had led his master into, but he also felt pity for the wretched creature grovelling before them in the dust. "Get up then! Get up and be silent. I will not kill you if you behave and remain quiet. No! Don't try to sneak off." Gollum was starting to back away from the two hobbits, his fear of the blade vying with his desire to be near the Precious. "Come and sit right here where I can keep an eye on you."

Gollum, fearful of Sam's anger crept forward, "Don't hurt poor Sméagol, poor, poor Sméagol, it not our faults if She be angry!" Gollum wound his body in a snake-like fashion around the rock that Frodo was sitting on. "We didn't know She would jump on Masster. She jumpsess on anything that moves."

"But you knew the giant spider was there," Frodo looked admonishingly at the cringing brute, "didn't you? You must have seen it before."

"No Masster, no." Gollum looked at the ground, knowing the Master of the Precious would see the lie in his face.

Frodo did not see the deceit, but he heard it easily enough. "It doesn't matter now anyway," he sighed. "You cannot help what you do. Just don't try any more of your nasty tricks or Sam will finish you off with his blade and that will be an end of you. Now get away from me and let me rest."

Gollum uncurled from Frodo's feet and slunk over to lie on a rock several yards away from Master and the Precious, mumbling to himself the whole time, "Thinks we's so tricksy and the hobbitsess are most tricksy too. All the little hobbitsess, even the not seeing one and the no talking one, even they tried to trick poor Sméagol."

"What did you say?" Sam followed Gollum to his new patch and hissed the question at him. Frodo had closed his eyes and was taking no more notice of the benighted creature, but Sam had caught the last muttered part of his grumbling. "What did you do to the other hobbits?"

"She was angry, not our fault. She wanted hobbitsess, we promised Her hobbitsess and She was angry." Gollum as usual appeared to be talking more to himself than answering Sam, but a horrible cold realisation was creeping over the hobbit at the chilling words.

"You led them on to it," Sam reached forward and grabbed Gollum by the neck. "Didn't you? What happened? Tell me now! Quickly!"

Gollum looked up at Sam, the cringe suddenly replaced with a look of triumph at the distress he was causing. He realised all at once that here was a chance to hurt the stupid fat hobbit. The Master's servant obviously cared about what had happened to the other two, but he wouldn't kill Sméagol, not unless Master said so. "She sucked him dry, it was what She wanted! The blind one, he didn't know which way was where. So Sméagol helped him along. We remembered what the hobbitsess did to us so we tricksess the other hobbitsess. She needed to eat – needed more fresh blood – not Sméagol, we don't taste so good. But the other hobbitsess were ripe, couldn't run, too blind, couldn't hear the screams – not the other one, the little one – so we loses him."

"What did you do? You foul thing!" Sam's heart was pounding now as he realised the truth of what Gollum was telling him. He had led Mr Merry to the terrible spider. Sam had thought he hadn't quite killed Her and Gollum had wanted to placate the thing for his master's escape. So the snivelling thing had led poor blind Mr Merry to his death.

Sam let go of Gollum's neck before his temper ruled him and he squeezed the life out of the hateful wretch. He sank down on the ground, tears welling in his eyes as he thought of poor Merry, helpless and blind at the mercy of that horrific monster. "At least he couldn't have seen it," he gasped, holding back his sobs with effort.

"Seen what Sam?" Frodo opened his eyes and gave him a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing Mr Frodo, you just take your rest, you need it." Sam rallied himself. There was no need to go upsetting his Master now, there would be time enough later to mourn Mr Merry. But even as the words left his lips Sam realised he had to say something to Frodo. What if Merry were dead? Who was that talking to him with the message about Pippin and the Ring and what had happened to Pippin? Had Mr Merry, blind and all, escaped the giant spider? It did not seem possible. "Well, there is something I have to tell you," Sam cast his eyes round at Gollum. "That devil there, he gave Mr Merry to that spider, there's no point us waiting for Mr Pip, that wasn't Mr Merry talking to me – it couldn't have been, he- he's… Mr Frodo, your cousin, your Merry's dead!"

***********************************************************************************************************

'Think! You have to stay alert!' Merry could feel his mind closing down. It did not want to deal with anything going on around him any more. He felt his eyes flickering shut and his consciousness begin to swim and swirl like a leaf caught in a stream. He tried to catch the leaf, grasped it with both hands, he had it!

His eyes shot wide open as he was prised away from his little corner of the rock face again and swung upside down by his leg; was dropped; caught again by a scythe-like claw that cut his arm and tossed up into the air to turn, catlike, and land once more on all fours and scuttle back to press himself into the wall of stone. Merry was breathing fast now. The monster that had him was playing with him like a cat torments its prey. He was just that – prey – this thing was going to eat him. There was a flash of vision and the hobbit saw his body being torn to pieces as the fell beast, holding him down with one talon, ripped strips of flesh and intestine from his still warm carcass and Merry's mind started to drift away again.

A sudden clanking noise in front of him brought his attention abruptly back to the present. He stared at the thing that had landed about 3 feet away, trying to focus and work out what it was and what he was meant to do with it. A sword! Fight! He had to fight – how? Merry knew that if he did not do something soon the creature would be on him and it would all be over, but somehow he could not make his legs work or his body obey any of the orders he was trying to send it. Vaguely he remembered something that Boromir and Aragorn had told the hobbits in the early days of the Quest, when they had been travelling through Hollin. Full of bravado and derring-do he and Pippin had been then, there was nothing they would not try, battle with ogres, orcs and goblins, fight with dragons if need be. Now that need had come and there was something important that the men had warned them about. Too much fear can drive you to the point of not caring any more, losing all sense of danger and doing strange things like curling up and falling asleep. That was what Merry wanted to do now. They had called it something, battle weariness, or some such. 

No! He could not succumb to that, it would be like giving up. He and Pippin had laughed at the time at the very idea, but now that he was close, it suddenly made perfect sense, it made dying easier to bear.

The sword! He needed to get it. Scrambling, more in panic than in speed, he lurched on all fours, keeping a wary eye on the beast and grabbing up the blade and scuttling back to the wall again. He wouldn't… couldn't attack it himself. He watched and waited, all his concentration on staying awake and not giving in to the warm promise of sleep and oblivion.

Merry jumped with shock as the beast let out a terrifying snarl and snagged at him again, pulling him away from the wall, its drooling fangs only inches from his face. He almost screamed in terror but was suddenly aware of jeering and cheering coming from somewhere nearby. There were people there; surely they would help him?

He wriggled out of the claw, ripping the last shred of sleeve from his shirt and tearing another furrow down his already bloody arm. He tried to see past the monster to where the people were, if he could perhaps manoeuvre around there, then they could get him to safety. He made a feint with the sword, causing his tormentor to lurch to the side, then stabbed down with the sword, using two hands, into the great scaly foot. The creature howled with pain and rage, but veered away from him. Pulling the sword back out again, Merry moved around the cave wall towards the voices. He only had a short time now he was certain. He had gambled that he could reach the safety of the onlookers before the beast recovered from his attack for it was certain to stop playing and tear him to pieces now he had enraged it so.

Dimly the little hobbit looked up at the raucous sounds. The noises were coming from the other side of a metal barred gate and through the railings he could see faces too, although none that he recognised, they seemed wrong and distorted somehow. "Please, let me out!" Merry begged anyway, "It will eat me if you don't let me out!"

Cacophonic laughter greeted his request even when he caught hold of the bars and rattled them, a second roar of mirth assailed his ears. 

Merry squealed in panic as the beast scooped him up again, lifting him this time by the middle. His mind was starting to shut down again, as the creature squawked with distaste and dropped him once more, tossing him up slightly as if he were a hot chestnut pulled too hastily from the fire. He flipped over and landed on all fours, looking frantically at the gate and back up at the beast, not sure where to turn for help. He tried the gate once more. "I can't get out! Help me… please…" it hit Merry all at once! These were orcs on the other side of the gate, of course! He began to piece together the last couple of hours. The beast had flown with him into Mordor, back to its home probably, so these were its keepers and it was certain they would not let him out for any reason. These winged creatures probably brought morsels like him back all the time.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was seized again, but not lifted off the ground. The great jaws dug around his waist, firmly enough to hold him still, but not enough to bite into his flesh. Merry writhed and beat at the nose of the thing with his little sword, too close to stab and only able to flail about. The beast let go suddenly, almost spitting him out in disgust, and snapped at his arm – the hobbit pulled it away just in time.

Merry threw himself back at the railings, "I beg you, let me out, I won't taste good, I'll give it indigestion. Please don't let it eat me! Please!" He hardly knew what he was saying any more, he was trembling with fear and was hurt and tired. It was all too much; the suffering had reached a crescendo and he no longer cared what became of him. He sank down in front of the railings and curled into a ball, his arms over his head, resigned to let the beast take him now. There was nowhere to run and no escape, he might as well let the thing have him and be done with it. Sobbing into the ground he had one last thing left to do – Gandalf would surely forgive him one last little message after all. He whispered in mindspeak, _'bye pip – i love you – evrer and evrer.'_

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"Sam, what are you talking about?" Frodo looked from Gollum to Sam in horror. "What's happened to Merry? He talked to you in your mind. You were so sure it was him Sam. What's changed your mind?"

"It's that little sneak there," Sam almost growled at the wizened up creature. "He took Merry into the spider's lair and gave him to her, like he tried to do with you, only this time he did it!"

"Sméagol?" Frodo took a step forward. "Is what Sam says true? Did you lead Merry onto the spider?"

"We had to Masster," Gollum crept towards Frodo on his hands and knees, "She was angry with uss… She needed more meat. We gave Her the blind hobbit, he couldn't run and he couldn't see. He wouldn't have got out anyway, orcs would have got him, they would have been cruel – tortured him, beaten him," he sidled closer to Frodo until he could whisper the words in a sibilant hiss, "rape him, they would, pretty little hobbit. Better to give him to Her. She was hungry, finished him off quick, Sméagol kind to the blinded hobbit."

"Why you!" Frodo drew his sword and made as if to strike at Gollum, but the flash of temper passed as the pathetic thing cringed and caught hold of the hem of his coat, kissing and fawning at him. "Get off me! Go and sit over there and keep quiet, I don't want to hear any more of your lies."

Frodo and Sam slumped back down to sit, each with their head in their hands, glancing every so often back at Gollum, curled up and muttering to himself. "You know he's lying Sam," Frodo said at length. "Merry wouldn't just give up, he… well he did speak to you, didn't he? That's how we got the message to wait for Pippin."

"I don't know Mr Frodo," Sam looked up and scratched his head, "I could've been mistaken, that's all. I mean how do I know it wasn't just my own memory playing tricks on me? I may've just remembered the story and something made me think it was Mr Merry."

"What was the story Sam?" Frodo realised that he had not actually told him just what the secret was that he and Merry had kept all these years. 

"I vowed to Mr Merry I never would tell," Sam shook his head. He hated to keep things from his Master, but a promise was a promise. 

"Are you certain that nobody else ever knew?" Frodo asked, "I mean what if Merry told someone?"

"Oh believe me Mr Frodo," Sam looked up in horror, "Mr Merry wouldn't have told anyone – not that story, it was…" He paused for a moment and looked pointedly at the other hobbit. "No! You're right!" Sam suddenly exclaimed, half in excitement and half in worry. "He told me, just at the end. It was so fast. Not like telling the story in real time – he just kind of said, 'remember that Sam?' and I did. But there was a bit more, I'd forgotten until now!"

"What was it Sam?" Frodo was smiling now as he knew what Sam was about to say.

"He told you Mr Frodo!" Sam gasped and sat down, giving Frodo a quizzical look. "Didn't he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Evenin' Mr Frodo, how you fairing? All alone tonight I see." The landlord of the Green Dragon, unusually, was himself serving the ale that evening.

"Yes, Mr Juggins," Frodo reached for his coins, "I asked Bilbo to come down, but he was busy with his books."

"I was thinking more of your cousin!" The landlord passed the foaming mug over the bar to Frodo, "That Brandybuck lad – whass 'is name? Merlidoc?"

"Meriadoc," Frodo corrected. "No Merry's not feeling so well. He was due to go home today anyway, but he's laid up in bed proper poorly."

"Hmm." The landlord looked away and said no more, not even expressing regret at Merry's indisposition, which Frodo found odd. Normally hobbits were inordinately interested in each other's health and would have enquired as to the nature of the malady, the frequency of occurrence, the symptoms in great detail and the expected recovery time, together with any family history or expected relapses. 

On the other hand, Frodo did rather suspect that Merry's sudden illness was possibly due to a self-inflicted cause and that if, as the older cousin suspected, he had over-indulged in The Green Dragon the day before, his indisposition was more likely a massive hangover.

"I know what ails him!" Malo Bluebush was sitting at the long bench in the tap room, obviously with nothing better to do than eavesdrop on other folk's conversations. "That there cousin of yourn he wants to try suppin' a bit less ale an' mindin 'is manners 'e do!"

"And what would you know about it Mr Bluebush?" Frodo asked warily, hoping Merry had not been too disgraceful. 

"He was more than a little pot-valiant yesternoon, he were." Malo's voice was a little loud for Frodo's liking. "Drinking strong ale at his age an' all. Still them Brandybucks is queer enough anyway, don't think nuffin' they do would surprise decent proper Shire folks.

Frodo resisted the immediate urge to get into a defensive position, after all, he didn't actually know what Merry had done. "Come now Malo, they're just regular hobbits like anyone else, I lived there long enough."

"Hmp!" Malo's face was triumphant with a 'that proves it' look. "'Nuff said!"

"Mr Juggins, another mug of ale for Mr Bluebush if you please." Frodo decided bribery would probably be better than trading insults at this point. "Now then Malo," Frodo slid onto the bench beside the sour-faced hobbit. "What exactly was my cousin up to?"

Frodo, with the help of several eye witnesses, heard the whole story of how Merry had got drunk on strong porter, was smoking a pipe – at his age – bold as brass! Then to cap it all had stood on the table and sung rude songs, insulting almost every family in the Shire, including the Bagginses, and that was saying something! By the time the whole tale was finished, Frodo had bought 3 mugs of ale a piece for at least six disgruntled hobbits, but, mostly through his placatory manners and generosity had managed to convince them that it was just a laddish prank and he had done it for a dare. That it was not normal Brandybuck behaviour and – the songs? Well yes, Frodo managed to convince them that Merry was extraordinarily clever at making up verses on the spot and that these lines were all original and had never been sung in Brandy Hall and would never be performed in public again. Even this last was a stretch for Frodo and he had secretly kept his fingers crossed under the bench as he made the solemn undertaking.

"Right my lad!" Frodo muttered as he made his way home to Hobbiton, "We'll see just what you've been up to!" The thing that had surprised Frodo most of all was not Merry's drunken bout, but the fact that young Samwise Gamgee had been there and had not mentioned it to him. That was not like Sam, he usually told Frodo everything, even things he wouldn't tell Bilbo.

"So!" Frodo threw open the door to the bedroom without knocking, "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what have you been up to in The Green Dragon?"

"Ohh hush Frodo, you make too much noise," Merry pulled the pillow over his head and groaned.

"Not as much as I gather you were making yesternoon!" Frodo pulled the pillow away, "Merry! What possessed you?"

"Please Frodo, have pity," Merry tried to grab the pillow back, "I'm not a well hobbit."

"Little cousin, I am not playing," Frodo sat down on the side of the bed and, grabbing Merry's shoulders, sat him upright. "I want an amazingly good explanation as to why you were making a drunken exhibition of yourself in the pub and causing a disgrace to the name of Brandybuck or I shall be packing you off to Buckland along with a very stiffly worded letter to your father."

"You wouldn't Fro," Merry tried to make innocent wide eyes, but he was too woosy to manage more than a bleary gaze. "Please Fro, not with my head and all! Please, don't tell my Da!"

"Merry, seriously," Frodo took a little pity and let Merry lie back down on the bed, "I can't just let it go, it's not like you and I'm really worried. What possessed you Merry?"

"Fro, I'm sorry," Merry covered his eyes with his arms. "I made a mistake, thought I could manage more porter than I could, that's all."

"But you don't drink porter," Frodo pulled the arms away. "Meriadoc look at me, you don't even like it. I remember you tried a sip once and hated it… and Merry, you do know that I know when you're lying to me."

"I'm not!"

"Merry?"

"Fro…"

"Sam was there," Frodo announced suddenly, "I'll go and ask him about it. I suspect he brought you home – didn't he? I probably need to go and apologise to him as well for your behaviour."

"No!"

"What?" The panic in Merry's voice was not lost on the astute older cousin. "Why not – I've apologised to everyone else on your behalf."

"I-I want to do it myself, Fro." Merry stuttered, "I really should be the one to apologise to Sam."

"No, no." Frodo said with over emphasised concern. "You're far too poorly, you stay in bed and I'll go and sort things out with Sam." Frodo realised that he had found the catalyst that would bring the truth from his wayward younger relative. He stood up and, patting Merry solicitously on the arm started for the door.

"Frodo…" Merry's voice was almost a whisper. He was in a terrible quandary. He had promised Sam he would never tell, but he also knew that if Frodo confronted him with an apology on Merry's behalf the young gardener would inevitably break down and spill out the whole story. "Fro… please, don't… if- if I tell you, you have to promise me something."

"What do I have to promise?" Frodo came back to sit on the bed. "It had better not involve wagers, fireworks or Mrs Juggins' oldest lass!"

"No, Fro, it's… well you have to promise never to tell another living soul." Merry sat up now and caught hold of Frodo's hand, "Please, as long as you live and most of all, you must never, never tell Sam."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So he told you – everything?" Sam looked at the ground, too embarrassed to face Frodo realising that he knew the whole truth about his Gaffer nearly catching him drinking strong porter and smoking, and how he let Mr Merry pretend it was him and got himself so drunk he insulted everyone in the pub.

"He did," Frodo nodded, "and the only reason I'm telling you now is because Merry has already told you – in his message."

So, so…" Sam processed the information to see if it came out good news. "That must mean, that the message was real and Mr Merry is alive!"

"Of course it does." Frodo gave a small laugh, "Because only Merry knew that I knew the whole story – you didn't – not until Merry told you in your mind. So that means the spider didn't kill him; the message was real and we do have to wait for Pippin!"

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Éowyn and Faramir rode fast and in silence. Drâmym and Ŭnomer rode just behind them, on either side of Dysgwr, his horse, Diawl Goch, guided by the other two, while the man just hung on for his life. Had this been but a day ago he might have complained, but given what had just happened to little Merry, he kept silent and concentrated on staying on board.

Although it was not spoken as the five rode on, desperately hoping to reach the Black Gate before the battle commenced and knowing they would not be even close, each of them realised how much young Merry had come to mean to them all. 

Éowyn's tears were whipped away by the stinging wind in her face as she wept freely for the loss of her dear and loyal friend. Not only was her heart wrung by the thought of what he might be suffering, but also by the knowledge that, in the end, she had failed him.

Faramir too, cursed himself for being a party to Merry's escape from the Healers, he should have known that no good would come of the deception and then, in his desperation to defeat the Nazgûl, he had failed to keep any arrows back which might have saved Merry from the fell beast.

Drâmym could not help thinking of when he had first met Merry. The little hobbit had been blind and in need of protection and yet it was Merry who had saved his life, pulling an arrow from his back and binding the wound and then selflessly taking off his own fleece to wrap the hurt Rider in to keep him warm.

Ŭnomer went over and over in his mind how close he had come to bringing the fell beast down, how he could clearly see Merry's face and how the rope had found its mark with the first throw. And yet… yet somehow the rope had been pulled through his fingers. The terror in his heart still resounded painfully as the image of the dreadful winged horror, with Merry clutched in its talons, flew gradually out of his sight.

Dysgwr grit his teeth in silent agony at the rough jostling to his rear end of the unaccustomed saddle, but the tears that fell unashamedly down his face were for poor Merry. The Healer had grown very fond of the young hobbit, his fortitude, his tenacity, his bravery and, most of all, his polite and respectful manner. What he must be suffering now Dysgwr dared not even let his mind ponder on.

"Oh Merry!" Éowyn suddenly pulled up, jerking Gaseg Wen to an abrupt halt. The mare seemed to sense her rider's distress and need and stood stock still as Éowyn sat with her face buried in her hands as she sobbed deeply.

"Éowyn?" Faramir had ridden past but turned about and brought his horse to stand beside her, as the others reined in and looked on. "What is it?" Faramir hardly dare ask for fear of the answer. "Did Merry call you?"

"No." Éowyn's voice was small and distant. "He called to Pippin – he said 'goodbye'!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"Noooo!" Even Shadowfax tossed his head and kicked up a rear heel at the sudden cry. "No! Not! Not! Gandalf not let he!!"

"Pippin what's wrong?" Gandalf was taken aback at the sudden cry. "What's the…" before the wizard could finish the sentence Legolas was by their side and had caught hold of Pippin, lifting him down from the horse and holding him tightly in his arms, as if he would squeeze all the pain and sorrow out of his small friend.

Pippin, his arms hung about Legolas's neck whispered in the elf's ear, "Did you go hears he too? It no no no trues Legolas, why he go say that and he not go speak us now?" The elf of course made no reply but Pippin could feel his tears hot on his own face. The hobbit himself was too deeply distraught and disbelieving of what he had heard to even cry.

"Pippin!" Gandalf leapt from Shadowfax and turned the small figure away from Legolas. Gimli too had dismounted and was trying to separate them in order to discover what had happened. "Tell me what's wrong!" The Wizard shook him a little, "Now!"

"Merry…" Pippin sank against Gandalf, his voice lost in the Wizard's robes, "Merry, he sayed us in we minds… sayed he loved me… sayed he bye at me. He goed to be dying Gandalf."

"But Pippin," Gandalf knelt to look Pippin face to face, "he was getting better in the Houses of Healing when we left him. Did he relapse?"

"Not." Pippin shook his head, too stunned to explain easily what he had felt, the terror and hopelessness that had come unbidden with the sad last message. "He not be there – he go out of there. Be somewhere most of scared and scared! Oh Gandalf, Merry he so afraid it and he so tired, not can't do he any more! He just want go get dead!"

"Pippin, are you sure?" Gandalf suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder from above and looking up saw that it belonged to Legolas. The elf nodded his head, his face engulfed in great sadness, confirming what Pippin had said. Gandalf turned back to Pippin and ran his hand over the hobbit's brow and looked deeply into his eyes, finding no deception or mistake there. "Pippin, I don't know how this has come about, but do not assume that all is lost just from a feeling. Perhaps Merry has become more ill, but he is being well cared for and you must concentrate on the matter in hand – will you do that? For me? Please?"

Pippin sniffed his anguish back and took Gandalf's hand and held it tightly, "Will try."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Mr Frodo, I think we have to move from here," Sam was surveying the landscape nervously again. ""We've been here far too long and I have a terrible feeling, as if we were being watched by unfriendly eyes."

"Well we're being watched, that is for certain," Frodo agreed, indicating Gollum. The creature was sitting a little way away from the two hobbits, untrusted and untrusting, winding his hands endlessly together and muttering a constant litany of blame and hate against Master, Master's servant and himself. "Although I'm not sure he bothers me any more Sam, he's just a pathetic little anachronism, who should have left this life years ago."

"There's more though." Sam turned to Frodo, the worry written all over his face. "I feel as if one of those Nazgûl creatures is near and that if we stay here much longer we will be caught."

"Do you think he could be leading them to us?" Frodo nodded towards Gollum, then called out. "Hey Sméagol, come here. What are you doing?"

Gollum sidled over and knelt before Frodo, "Whassit wants from uss. We be good to them now, we promises. No more liess, no cheatings the little hobbitsess."

"You'd better not." Frodo said fiercely. "Are you leading Sauron's servants to us? Do the Nazgûl know where you are?"

"Sméagol good to hobbitsess now," Gollum whined looking up at Frodo with wide eyes. "Not betray them. Not like Masster betrays poor Sméagol."

"You did it once," Frodo pointed out. "How do we know you won't do it again?"

"Get down!" Sam suddenly threw himself at Frodo and knocked him off his feet, half pushing him and half pulling him under the rocky overhang that had been their hiding place for the past several days. Even as the hobbits took cover the sound of galloping hooves came to their ears followed by the sight of four jet-black horses and black garbed riders, one riding slightly ahead of the rest. He was taller and his beast more ill-favoured than the others, for it was huge and hideous, its face like a frightful mask, more skull than living head. Although the Rider was clad from head to toe in black this was no Ringwraith, but a living man, but terrifying and ominous for all that.

Gollum looked about in panic and started to follow after the hobbits, but he stumbled and fell in the path of the Riders, cringing down in terror in the road.

The leader lifted up a hand, bringing his entourage to a halt. "What is that foul beast in my path?" One of the followers dismounted and almost invisibly drew long lash whip from his cloak. He cracked the lash snaking towards Gollum and the end wrapped around the writhing creature, catching him by the leg. 

"Arrsssshhh! Leave us agggrrrhh." Gollum pulled and fought at the trapping thong until the rider reeled the struggling creature in and caught him by the neck.

"It is a disgusting piece of excrement." The rider looked up at his master, "Shall I strangle it Lord?"

"No – wait!" The Lord narrowed his already slitted eyes and looked carefully at Gollum. "I know this creature, it follows the halfling. He must be near. Tie it up and we will wait, perhaps he will come for it. The halfling will show himself and then the Prize will be ours! Then you may strangle it!"

Frodo and Sam watched from their hiding place with horror as Gollum was bound hand and foot, wailing and screaming the whole time. As the riders threw him down on the ground and settled down to wait, Frodo whispered in Sam's ear, his voice so quiet even Sam could barely hear him. "I have to go and rescue him Sam."

"No Mr Frodo!" Sam almost said aloud, so great was his panic. "That just what they want – whoever they are."

"I'll use the Ring." Frodo drew it from around his neck. "They are not Ringwraiths so they won't see me. It's all right Sam, I feel strong with it now! The Ring is slightly less than It was and I feel equal to It – I can control It – I promise."

Before Sam was able to raise further objections Frodo stood and took the Ring from round his neck. He hissed urgently, "No Frodo! Don't – you'll be caught!"

But it was too late – Frodo was gone.

***********************************************************************************************************

"Whass the hold-up?" Grutfley was a seasoned fighter and had seen many a skirmish in his time before he'd worked his cushy number as chief torturer in the Black Tower, but no matter how many times he went into battle, waiting always made him nervous. "When's this frigging battle gonna start?"

"I dunno," Smagnu sat warming his hands in front of the small campfire, "no point in being too eager ter get killded. It'll happen soon enough."

"Is thass right? Cap'n Smag?" Sniggin standing next to Smagnu, happy to wait on his commander, had, unlike Grutfley, never actually seen action before. "Is we all gonna get killded?"

"Well it don't have to happen." Smagnu said, "Yer gotcha bow 'n' arrows an' yer knows how to use 'em."

"Yessir!" Sniggin was so proud of the bow his Captain had given him. "Right Cap'n!"

"And now yer got yer woad," Smag looked carefully at the blue painted little orc. "Whass that stuff made of any way?"

"Oh this an' that Cap'n." Sniggin was proud of his adornment, Bloggin had finger-painted a large blue stripe across his face. "It's s'posed to be a rainbow, but we only got the one colour."

"It's very good." Smagnu assured him. "An' Bloggin's idea of keepin' behind the trolls is sound. So you've got a good chance of getting by."

"Well Cap'n Smag," Sniggin peered into Bloggin's cooking pot still bubbling on the fire. "Blog thinks now it might be best if'n we goes in front of Groll. We thinks we'd be able to get it to go where we wants it now an' then the others'll follow."

"Right Snig." Smagnu mulled this over for a moment. "What d'yer think Grut? Theys might just have summat there."

"Yeah – true enough," Grutfley considered the position. "But I'll go with 'ems. Just to keep an eye. The others can get behind like we said."

"Right enough." Smagnu and Grutfley had decided that they wanted themselves and all the orcs in their battalion to get through this battle without being killed and they had decided the best way to do that was not to kill the enemy unless directly attacked. Marking all the orcs in their command with blue woad had been a stroke of genius by the two little brothers, so perhaps letting them lead the trolls would be a good move too. "But try to stay out o' trouble if'n yer can." Smagnu looked around at the vast army, "Wonder what the hold up is though?"

"And where's that brother of yourn got to." Grutfley grumbled. "He's bin gone a while now. Wonder if'n he's found owt out about whass goin' on."

Even as Grutfley spoke an out of breath Bloggin arrived, dodging around Groll who appeared to be asleep on his feet, and saluting to Smagnu and then Grutfley as he gulped his breath back. "Beggin' your pardon Cap'n Smag," he panted, "I bin all round me best telltales an' I thinks we's off soon as."

"Well whass the delay then?" Grutfley demanded, "Why're we still waitin' here?"

"What I heared," Bloggin squatted down and took out the dagger that Grutfley had given him and started to give it it's fifty seventh polish, "there's some of the enemy comed to the big gate and is askin' to parlay with the powers as be. Seems they wass waitin' here fer the biggest boss as they could get to show up."

"Well who was that then?" Smagnu asked with interest, "The General? Number One, - no I heared he's gone. The Great Master hisself?"

"They's said it was a Great Lord sent from the Black Tower from Barn-Door." Bloggin furrowed his brow as if trying to catch an elusive thought. "He wuz called summink – The Mouse of Sauron – or summink!"

"Yeah – that'd make sense." Grutfley agreed. "So did they go out and parlay yet?"

"No," Bloggin had gleaned his information from the best sources, listening surreptitiously in places where he passed unnoticed as just another lesser and stupid orc, "They had to take summat with 'em. Well a someone I finks. It was a enemy spy what they got an' they wanted to show it to thems."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Come forth!" the heralds cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

Pippin turned and glanced up at Gandalf with a crooked smile and a shrug, "No things is happnening!" he remarked wryly. 

"Hush Pippin," Gandalf frowned down. "Not the time for hobbit pertness."

"Well what you are to go do?" Pippin had never really caught on that this kind of questioning annoyed the wizard.

"Peregrin Took! If you don't…" Gandalf was silenced by a long rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones and stunned men's ears. And thereupon the door of the Black Gate was thrown open with a great clang and out of it rode an embassy from the Dark Tower.

At its head there rode a tall evil shape, mounted upon a hideous black horse with a skull-like head and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black and black was his lofty helm. 

Pippin gasped at the sight, thinking this was one of the Nazgûl, remembering how they had ridden on horses in the Shire and at the Ford of Bruinen. 

"Peace Pippin." Gandalf's hand rested comfortingly on the hobbit's shoulder, "This is no Ringwraith, but a living man. It is the Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dûr – a renegade from the race of the Black Numenoreans – he is high in the favour of Sauron and far more cruel than any orc."

Pausing before the assembled company he looked them up and down and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked turning to Aragorn with scorn.

Aragorn said nothing but took the other's eye and held it until the Messenger looked away, turning instead to Gandalf. "I am the Mouth of Sauron and I am a herald and ambassador and may not be assailed."

"No one has threatened you." Gandalf replied. "You have naught to fear from us until your errand is done, but unless your master has come to new wisdom then with all his servants you will be in great peril."

"So!" said the Messenger, "Then thou art the spokesman, Master Gandalf Greybeard and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have a proof for you that your schemes shall fail." He signed to one of his guards who came forward bearing a bundle across his saddle. "Show them the spy!"

The guard pulled the outer cloth off the shape that lay face down across his horse and revealed a figure, clad in an elven cloak, hobbit sized and with plain to see hobbit feet. The hood of the cloak was pulled up over the head and the little figure made no stir, either unconscious or dead. 

The Gandalf and Aragorn gasped in dismay and Pippin cried out in anguish.

"Show them more," commanded the Mouth of Sauron. The guard lifted up the elven cloak, throwing it across the hobbit's head, revealed the coat of mithril mail that Bilbo had given to Frodo and a small sword strapped about the hobbit's waist – the one Sam had worn.

Aragorn made to move forward, his hand upon his sword, but before he could act, two guards moved in front of the rider with the hobbit, allowing him to turn and make good his retreat inside the black gate.

"There is naught to be gained from an attack upon me." The Mouth of Sauron held up his hand in authority. "Your spy is finished as are your endeavours should you choose to continue with this conflict. I know what we have here! Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West and spy from the little rat-land of the Shire, here are the marks of a conspiracy. Sauron knows what he has and now It will be His! Lay down your arms and hear the Dark Lord's terms now – your war is lost!"

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N: First I have to thank Marigold again (grinding of teeth and rending of garments!) for a small plot bunny (she just said "vital" but I shall ignore her) and I can't reveal what it is as it will give the plot away – so she'll have to wait for bouquets other than the usual thanks for fighting me over various piddling items er beta-ing.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, I have answered some of the salient and intelligent points that have been made with, in the absence of wit and verve, thoughtful consideration. So 'ere we gooooooooooooo!:

(Marigold says I've had too much ginger wine – personally I blame her!)

Q & A

Periadoc  oh, oh!! Do I see our favourite orcs coming to the rescue? Hehe!! I hope so! Keep writing!  
Llinos: Hmm – I think they might have their work cut out with the battle. Nice try though!

naboolah: don't get too sidetracked by the world cup Llinos, i don't know if you watch rugby  
Llinos: No – too busy writing Recaptured :-)!

Honey Dipped Rose: Hey there. I haven't reviewed in God knows how long! I am so very sorry. Please forgive ... ;)  
Llinos: Well just so long as you don't forget again! :-)

HDR: Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I was still here. Probably don't remember me with all your other reviewers, not to mention I've changed my username twice.  
Llinos: Well I might if I knew what your name used to be.  
HDR: Just out of curiosity... does anyone here know where I could find a Beta reader? I have a Merry, Pip fic written .. but I'm not about to post it w/o a beta read.  
Llinos: Ah that hardest to find commodity, a good beta. I'd lend you Marigold, but she even has a waiting list now.

lindelea: Anyhow, quivering with fear, here. Please rescue Merry soon?  
Llinos: Well not too soon – if ever, I mean where's the fun in that?

siah: Claw's debut is one of my favourite additions to the new recaptured continued listing.   
Llinos: Hmm – don't know if Merry would agree with you.  
siah: The rhyme and the fact that Gandalf had told Legolas as well as Pippin at some point in their long lives how it went was delightful. I guess I imagine that Gandalf knew all of them as children and that is a common bond they share.  
Llinos: Yes – you can't help feeling that for sure and I like these little hints at the on-going relationship, although I have Gandalf present at the "Welcomefest" for both Merry and Pippin.

Samwise the Strong: SCREW PIPPIN!   
Llinos: Now there's an invitation!  
Samwise the Strong: How could such bad things happen to Merry, the best Hobbit!  
Llinos: Well, it's because he is the best hobbit that they happen! You always hurt the one you love!

Feng-huang: Begging forgiveness on being late, but I wanted to congratulate you on your story. I was around when it first was posted, and I must say, it's been a real drag since the new rules have been put up. Nonetheless, your story is beautifully written and well thought out. It's hard to follow a plotline as extensive as Tolkiens', even with the information given, so I would like to congratulate you as well as all other authors of exceptionally long fanfics. Can't wait until the next chapter!  
Llinos: Why thank you – I can't think of anything smart or ironic to say to such politeness – simply charming!

pippin-the-thain: 'Dreamerings in We head, Legolas.' aw! i love that word -- dreamerings --it better not be copyright llinos...coz its mine now!! mwahahahahahaha!  
Llinos: You may have it my darling, if you like it so much, with pleasure. Perhaps I could give words as Christmas pressies this year, that'd save a bob or two! Any one else want one?

Kookaburra: I love how you've written the fell Beast. Never seen that before - very original and unique.  
Llinos: Yeah – but she's no Icicle!  
Kookaburra: And in response to emma- I'd be happy to set up an illustration page, or a fanart page on your site. Have people sent you pictures they've done of Recap?  
Llinos: I'll let you two artistic types discuss this among yourselves.

NarsilC: Wow, this story has come a long way!   
Llinos: I know – I'm knackered!

sam: Pip giving Gandalf a hard time for sneaking up on him was priceless!  
Llinos: Yes – do not mess with hobbits for they are sarcastic and quick to dish out irony!  
Marigold: Poor Merry! I loved what you did with my idea about him *touching* his parents as his terror had nowhere else to go,  
Llinos: Ah but it was your own special idea AND you got me to listen – a feat in and of itself!

aelfgifu: great chapter! And I just loved the two versions of poetry!   
Llinos: I'm not too sure how Legolas feels about it – I mean it's not very "elvish" is it?

Eldarin Queen: NONONONONNOO! I strictly FORBID you to do any more harm to my Merry, or i will call hobbit protection services on you and i mean it.  
Llinos: But just think – how can Merry be brave heroic and wonderful if nothing terrible ever happens to him?

Sakura123: I'm gettin really tired of Éowyn... and Faramir... the two annoying-est duo in a fanfiction to date... oi I always did find them a bit odd in the book, the T.   
Llinos: What just in my fanfic – or generally? Some folk like 'em – but you can't please everyone – really – I know I've tried – given up now though!

Sue: Sorry I haven't reviewed for so long but I have now caught up and enjoying this wonderful journey. Another new character, looking forward to see what Bloodclaw gets up to.  
Llinos: Still thinking of eating Merry I think – she's such a picky eater though – doesn't like that elven rope.

Jeodo Brandybuck: I loved all of it and it will have to squeeze in among my shelf of favourite chapters. (Move over all of you Recaptured chapters!)  
Llinos: Are they shuffling about and elbowing each other? I'd like to see that!  
Jeodo: Of all of the Pippinspeak so far, I love the word "dreamerings." I'll add that one to my personal dictionary, along with "promsis."  
Llinos: Oh rats! I just gave it to Pippin-the-Thain up there. Perhaps you could share it? No squabbling now!

Sandy Kay (Iris Sandydowns: Then Pippin practicing his speaking by reciting nursery rhymes. So cute! The rhyme about the catto, is that original? I've never heard it before.   
Llinos: Ah neither had I until Pippin whispered it in my ear and then Legolas told me the proper words.  
Sandy: Pippin still believes he's carrying The One Ring! I hope he doesn't decide to do something foolish!  
Llinos: Sensible hobbits! Where's the fun in that?  
Sandy: And the beast itself! Ick! I loved getting inside its head, though. I actually started feeling sorry for her in a way. She's just acting on instinct. Almost never getting the sort of food she likes, and then not being allowed to take it up into the caves she enjoys.  
Llinos: Now stop that – no starting fan followings for the fell beast!  
Sandy: I wonder if any of the orcs who are watching poor Merry being a mouse for the fell beast will recognize him as Smagnu and Grutfley's "big Pip?" At least he's got that elven rope! I would probably lose all hope for him without that rope! I'm obsessing over it!  
Sandy: One last thing and then I'll shut up: Dysgwr is about to get a taste of battle! He's going to wind up a hero, isn't he? :D  
Llinos: Okay! Step away from the plot and put the surmising on the table and nobody gets hurt!

:): Pippin is really going to need some speech therapy if he can survive everything you're doing to him!   
Llinos: Me? Oh I'm the least of Pippin's problems!   
:):I liked when Gandalf "snuck up" on him and scared him when he was trying to get Legolas to mind speak again.  
Llinos: Well he should know bettrer!  
:):Can't wait to see more of Smagnu and Gruftley   
Llinos: Well this chapter should please you – unless of course you don't like lots of Frodosam!

Baylor: Oh, Pip. So much trouble for such a little hobbit, and this to top it all off: "then it go grumble jumble when We says things."   
Llinos: Oh you like "grumble jumble Baylor? That's your Crimble pressie sorted then!  
Baylor: So Merry has been captured by a dinosaur (or close to it)! The creature's POV was fantastically written, and the ending cruelly frightful. Don't leave our brave Meriadoc in such dire straits for long, please!  
Llinos: I know, I know – but it's hard not to – especially when Marigold likes it so much!

Gillian: Question, when Merry cried out to his mother, father and pippin, would he have possibly reached legolas too and the elf simply did not say anything for umm...obvious reasons?  
Llinos: Aha a question I believe I can actually answer! No he didn't because Merry shut his mind down to all his usual correspondents – that was why he found his parents – the mind terror was so great it just had to go somewhere!

Xena: Pippin's dream was interesting, I knew right away something was wrong, considering he was talking normally!  
Llinos: Okay – you get a large gold star! Very well spotted!  
Xena: I also like that the fell beast now has a name besides "fell beast." Bloodclaw scares me, she really shouldn't play with her prey!   
Llinos: Oh no she should – otherwise Merry would be eaten by now!

Pip4: Aw, poor Merry, poor Pippin, poor everyone.   
Llinos: Does that include poor Llinos? No I guess not.

ssj3 Thomas: I can't believe I didn't review the last chapter.  
Llinos: That's all right – just don't let it happen again! :-)   
ssj3 Thomas: Oh, and bad bad fell beast. and poor Éowyn.  
Llinos: Well poor Merry really – although she is feeling pretty bad.

Dear Reader: More Éowyn and Faramir...Yeah, yeah, I know I sound like a broken record...But I still want more Éowyn and Faramir...  
Llinos: Perhaps you'd like to have a word with Sakura123 above! :-)

shirebound: This is the scariest thing I've ever read! I'll be peeking through my fingers at Chapter 29, if my heart can take it.  
Llinos: Perhaps I need to write more horror! I scared Marigold too and she knew it was coming!


	30. Under Wraps

Under Wraps

Recaptured – Chapter 122

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Frodo sprang lightly across the rocks, Sam's urgent whisper still sounding in his ears. It was strange, even though he was some way away from his companion and knew that his voice was too low to hear from this distance, he still heard it as clearly as if he were standing right next to him. "No Frodo! Don't – you'll be caught!" Frodo paid no heed, he felt strong now, powerful, invulnerable.

Then the second small voice sounded in his ear. This one was not from any external source, but was his own heart speaking to him, whispering the daunting truth, **_'it's not you – it's Him! He has you – be cautious, be Frodo!'_**

"Yes, yes," Frodo whispered half to himself and half to the voice, "I know, I'll remember – it's just for a moment – just to get…"

"Sméagol! No – no! We hates them!"

"Who does it hate?" The men kicked at the poor creature from where they sat, spinning it around in the dust. "What's it up to?"

"I suspect it hates the halfling." The voice was that of the leader Frodo realised. The tall black helmed man that sat a little apart from the others on a carefully arranged gilt and black fleece set upon a rock. "It has something this creature desires."

Frodo suddenly realised that he was standing exactly in front of the men and that they were indeed looking beyond him at Sméagol, who lay in the dirt behind him. Gollum began to pull himself up again and, as Frodo turned to him, the hobbit realised, with horror, that the wizened creature could actually see him and would most likely give him away. "Shhhhhh!" Frodo lifted his finger to his lips and shook his head, but it was not enough to silence the frantic call.

"Masster! Masster, no he wears It!" Sméagol was almost beside himself with anxiety and anger. "Noooo theys sees him!"

"Hush Gollum!" Frodo snapped between gritted teeth, "Be quiet or I'll leave you here."

"What was that?" The men jumped up and Frodo had to sidestep quickly to avoid being trampled. "There!" The man spun round grasping out, forcing Frodo to move again. "It's like a shadow moving across the path?"

"A Nazgûl maybe?" One of the men scanned the skies, shading his eyes to see better.

"No, it was close by – something!"

"You're imagining things." The man gave up looking for the Wraith and sat down in the road again. Frodo, although weary, battered and hungry, felt a new energy surge through him with the Ring upon his finger. The small voice whispered to him again, **_'You could keep It – It's not so wrong. Think of all you could achieve, the good you could do?_**' Frodo pretended to himself that he had not just thought that – it was the only way he could deal with the concept. He picked up a stone and threw it, hitting the suspicious man in the back of the neck. Quickly he followed up with another stone, thrown in the opposite direction and landing with a 'clunk' some 15 feet away. 

The three men automatically looked round to where the stone had landed and Frodo was suddenly filled with a mischievous thought, remembering the tales Bilbo had told him of the frivolous way he had used the Ring when it first came to him. Teasing spiders!

Frodo shuddered initially as he remembered Shelob and hideous fear that had coursed through him from her attack. Then, he had been too afraid to use the Ring. Now, he found himself wondering why – why should he not wield It? Bilbo had, and he had managed all those years.

Frodo actually giggled as he ran a little way away and audaciously called out to the three men. "Cooee!" Then, like Bilbo, the urge to call out impertinent songs grew too strong to resist:

"Three daft clowns,  
In big black gowns  
Looking all around them  
With three black frowns!"

Frodo threw another stone, then scuttled in the opposite direction as the three men followed the trajectory of the missile, trying to ascertain who was there.

Gollum was looking wildly around, his eyes darting from Frodo, who he could see as a distinct shadow, to the three men and up to the dark cowled leader on the higher rock, trying to ascertain if they could see 'Masster' as he could. 

Sam was in a complete quandary, fearful to show himself as that would lead to his capture and possibly Frodo's too, but afraid to do nothing and terrified of what his Master might be getting himself into with the Ring.

Frodo was feeling better the longer he kept the Ring on his finger. He scooped up a handful of gravel and threw it in a scattering arc around the men. He scampered up to a higher perch and added another verse:

"Three fat toads  
On the crossroads  
Looking all around them  
To see whose making odes!

"Right! Come here whoever you are!" The first man was embarrassed and angry. He seized Gollum about the neck and shook him. "Tell your friend to come out or I'll wring your neck!"

"Noo!" Gollum wriggled and fought, "there's no one – only uss! No one here but usses!"

Frodo ran back and forth as he sang out again, trying to confuse the men further by moving all the time.

"Three great louts  
In dirty black clouts  
Looking all around them  
To see who's roundabouts!"

The man dropped Gollum and turned about trying to catch a handful of the breeze that rushed by him. As he did so, his long bladed knife seemed to fall from its scabbard and flew through the air. The weapon sliced swiftly and cleanly through the ropes on the wizened creature he had just dropped, causing it to screech shrilly as it scrambled away over the rocks on all fours. Too late the man realised what had happened. The invisible something had freed the prisoner and still they did not have it.

"Idiots!" The Leader stood up suddenly as he realised they had allowed the bait to escape. "Catch that thing! Quickly!" The three men scrambled after the skin and bone brute, but it was frightened and fast and was gone before they had cleared the first ridge. As they returned, out of breath and out of sorts, to their Chief he greeted them with a snarl. "Not the maggot you fools! Can you do nothing?"

"It was too fast, Master." The man bowed low in obvious fear of punishment. "We tried to catch it but it was gone in a flash."

"Not that thing!" The black cowl was thrown back momentarily to reveal a pair of cruel, mocking eyes and a sneering lip. "The creature you could not see – that was your prey – that thing was merely bait! Now you have missed it. Another mistake today and you'll be feeding the Nazgûl's mount tonight!"

The man bowed low and made no response. He knew his Master did not mean that he would be preparing the repast for the fell beasts, he meant that he would be their dinner. Silently the three men packed the fleece and other equipment back onto the horses, helped their Master back onto his horse and followed as he spurred his steed swiftly along the road.

Sam watched with relief as he realised the unexpected visitors were leaving and just as the last man climbed aboard his horse, he felt a movement beside him and, two seconds later, Frodo was there. "You near gave me a heart attack Mr Frodo," Sam breathed, "Carrying on like that. I thought you were caught for sure."

"No Sam," Frodo looked flushed and excited. "It was wonderful. I felt completely in control of everything."

"Why Mr Frodo, are you all right?" Sam remembered how he had felt when wearing the Ring, it was an exhilarating sensation, "you will be able to part with it – won't you?"

"I think so Sam." Frodo slumped down, suddenly brought back to earth by the realisation that this feeling was a false promise and he could not use the Ring to make anything better – it would still have to be destroyed. "I just felt so wonderful – I felt like… like… I don't know…"

"Like a Great Lord?" Sam suggested, "or an Elven Warrior?"

"No," Frodo shook his head with a smile. "I felt like Bilbo!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"Come on – move yer fuggin' maggot!" The orc poked the long pole in between the bars again, stabbing the pointed end into the curled up little creature on the cave floor. 

"It ain't no frickin' good!" A whining voice cursed, "I got two days rations on that 'un an' it ain't doin' nuffink!"

"Wot abaht Bloodclaw – she ain't too keen on it – keeps droppin' it dahn she does!" Even as the orc spoke, the fell beast bent her head down and sniffed at Merry's curled up form and seizing him around the middle with her great jaw, picked him up and shook him from side to side, before dropping him again. Apart from putting his arm over his head, Merry lay quite still.

"It's 'cause it's got that thing round it." Sergeant Gralag reminded them. "You said you was gonna get it out an' take that there rope offun it so's she can eat it. Thass what my wager was."

"Yeah well, y'see Sarge," Bagrat checked his chalked ledger. "We got 6 bets on Claw tearin' it to bits and spittin' the rope out. We got four wagers goin' at 5 to 2 she'll jest keep on playin' wiv it. Two who reckons it'll maim her wiv the sword an' get itself out o' there – I already called theirs bets in, 'cause they've lost – an' there's one 50 to 1 outsider that she'll try ta screw it – but I fink they're just havin' a laugh!"

"Yeah – well, bugger that lot!" Gralag shoved Bagrat towards the iron gate, past the orcs who were still poking at Merry to try and make him get up. "You get it out an' get that bloody rope off it so's she can eat it. I ain't got all day an' I wanna see her rip it to bits before I goes back on duty."

"C'mon you bunch o' scum! Out th' way!" Bagrat pushed his way past the jeering orcs and snatched a hooked pole off one that was using it to try and stir Bloodclaw's dinner into action. He hooked the pole around the little creature's leg and dragged it closer to the gate.

"I fink it must be dead," one of the orcs supplied helpfully, "it ain't moved for least five minutes."

"'ow'd you know?" Bagrat sneered, "you got a timepiece? Anyway – I still gotta take that rope off'n it so's she can eat it, dead or not." The orc started to open the gate, but Bloodclaw was alert and snagged at her prey, pulling it back towards her again. "'ere, you!" Bagrat clipped the orc that had been poking at Merry, "go and rattle the cage up t'other end, try and get her away." The little orc did as told, using his rusty sword to run up and down the bars and make a din. Bloodclaw turned that way with a snarl and, as she went to the other end of the cage to snap at the aggravating noise, Bagrat quickly opened the gap wider and dragged the unmoving little form through it. As soon as the fell beast realised she had been thwarted, she threw herself back at her disappearing plaything, crashing against the gate in fury just as it slammed shut.

Bagrat lifted the little thing up by the wrists and, as it slumped limply in his grasp he called to the other orc, "Oi! Snagit! Peel this bloody rope stuff off it so as 'er ladyship can 'ave 'er dinner back!" 

Snagit tucked the rusty sword back in his belt and hurried over to do as he was bid. He caught hold of the elven rope and pulled several lengths away from Merry's body, letting the rope coil on the ground around the hobbit's feet. The hobbit whimpered a little, although open, his eyes were fixed on nothing and he made no attempt to struggle or escape.

"Come on," Sergeant Gralag grumbled, "geddit off it and put it back – I ain't gonna be responsible if'n Bloodclaw breaks out o' there." Suddenly the rope whipped up from the ground as if it were a live snake. It smacked against Snagit with a vicious crack and then, to the watching orcs' amazement, wrapped itself back around the strange little creature's chest.

"Well call my shit pink! Did you see that?" Bagrat dropped the small creature in alarm, letting it crumple to the ground. "What the fug…!"

Gralag bent down swiftly and picked the thing up by its legs and, holding it out upside down at arm's length, examined it carefully. Its eyes were open but they were glassy and vacant and it hung there trembling in his great fists, not fighting or protesting, too traumatised to struggle. It was quite light and small and had a childlike face the orc thought on closer inspection, perhaps it was a woman's brat or babe, he'd seen them before, killed and eaten a few in his time. "What is this thing?" He asked, turning the hobbit around to get a better look. "Any idea?"

"We reckoned it was an elfling or summat." Bagrat supplied unhelpfully. "Too small fer a proper elf like. Either that or a baby man."

"What are you?" Gralag shook Merry hard and, getting no response, turned him over and stood him on the ground and, keeping him upright with a handful of hair, he caught hold of his chin and dug his fingers into the little thing's cheeks, "Come on – what the fug are you – tell me!"

Merry was vaguely aware that he was being questioned – asked who he was – he should probably answer. "M-Merry…" the hobbit stammered, it was all he could think of in his present state, even his second name eluded him.

"Wass a merry?" Gralag dropped his grip on Merry's chin and hit him hard across the face, the hobbit only staying upright by the handful of hair with which the orc held him.

"I think that's its name, Sarge." Bagrat suggested. "It don't know what yer talking about by the looks of it."

"I'll give it what fer!" Gralag snagged at the rope, trying to pull it off. But the rope had ideas of its own and clung tightly to Merry's chest as if it had been glued there. "It's gotta be an elf!" The Sergeant decided. "This is some kind o' magic." He gave Merry another clout, this time across the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. Catching hold of him by his arm, the orc pulled him up again and gave him another shake, "What are you? Eh! Not your fuggin' name! What the fug are you? An elf? A dwarf? A manbrat? What?"

The question finally seeped through to Merry's semi-conscious mind, someone wanted to know what he was. Since leaving The Shire it was a repeating question, so few folks seemed to have met with hobbits. "A h-hobbit," he stuttered. Then remembering automatically that this answer often drew a blank, added, "a halfling – I'm a h-halfling."

Somewhere in Sergeant Gralag's thick brain this rang a bell. A halfling! Wasn't that what the big bosses had been looking for? This thing could be worth a few coins if delivered to the right person, or maybe even a promotion. "All right Bagrat." Gralag picked Merry up, and threw him over his shoulder. "I'd best take it from here."

"What!" Bagrat looked at his chalked ledger and then pointed to the cage with Bloodclaw still snarling and clashing at the bars, furiously awaiting her prey to be returned. "You can't take it Sarge! Whacha gonna do wiv it? It's hers anyway and what about all them bets?"

"Never you mind, scum." Gralag did not wait to argue, but marched off leaving the voices of protest behind him. "Them on top might need this thing after all and it ain't none business o' yourn!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"What is it, Skug? This had better be worth my while, I got enough problems right now." General Phuni was in charge of the main liaison between the war front at the Black Gate and Barad-dûr and he was expecting a very important visitor. 

"It's Major Spicku, s'one on his Officers brung him summink what you'd wanna see." Skug looked nervously back out of the door, "Thass what he says – don't look much ta me, but he says an' all."

Sergeant Gralag had not been terribly successful in his attempts to profit from his find of a halfling more or less in one piece. He had taken it to the most superior officer who would deign to speak to him, Captain Nagash. However, the Captain had immediately confiscated the small find and, with an empty promise to Gralag of extra rations, had sought out his own superior.

Major Spicku had told Nagash to keep quiet about it and that he would take care of it. Spicku took the strange halfling creature into his tent and dragged its remaining clothes off, searching through the shredded garments carefully, while it crouched silently and unmoving in the corner. He tried to pull the rope off it, becoming cross and then baffled when he could not remove it, but eventually had to give up. He realised though that this was an interesting find and not to be sneezed at. Putting its ragged britches back on, he wrapped the unresisting and limp form in a blanket to hide it from sight and carried it to his commanding officer as quickly as he could.

"Well Spicku? What is it exactly?" General Phuni poked the end of his short whip at peculiar looking creature. "Looks like a child – the sort what men have – or an imp."

"It's a halfling, Sir." Spicku announced proudly, placing Merry on the ground and pulling the blanket off him. "I found it and brung it straight here ter you!"

Merry stood uncertainly in the centre of the tent, not looking up or speaking, his arms wrapped around his shivering body. His eyes were glazed and once more he felt an overwhelming desire to lie down and sleep, to remove himself from what had happened and whatever was about to happen. The great Uruk with the whip was poking at him and caught hold of his hair to pull his head up and look closely at him. "Oo's bin 'itting it?" he asked Spiku, "it's in a right state. An' where'd yer find it any'ow?"

"Bloodclaw brung it back ter eat it – only the boys took it of'n 'er. An' that bit o' rope round it won't come off – so we reckoned it was something odd. " Spiku decided it was time to lay claim. "Any'ow, General Sir, wassit worth – only I can take it back now and chuck it to the beast – she'll be wantin' 'er dinner, an' there wuz some big bets ridin' on it by all accounts."

"You ain't takin' it nowhere!" General Phuni grabbed hold of Merry and now pulled him sharply around to his other side, out of reach of the other orc. "The boss'll want ter see this, an' it's yer duty to 'and it over."

"The lads're gonna be right pissed off if'n they don't get it back." Spiku realised he was probably going to lose his prize, but it was worth a try. "'Ow's about a little softner fer 'em? Eh General Sir? Can't 'urt – arter all, I means…"

"Leave." The word was spoken quietly, but carried more dread and threat than a roar from General Phuni could ever have inspired. The voice did not speak another word to the orc, but there was no need. Major Spiku removed himself from the great presence in a second and considered himself lucky to have got away. The voice spoke again, "Bring it here."

Phuni snapped his fingers at his servant, who immediately produced a chair for the visitor, then, when the black clad figure was seated, dragged the dazed halfling by the hair and pushed it to the ground in front of the great Lord. "There, Your Honour, I wuz gonna make sure it got straight ter you."

"Have you searched it?" 

"No Your Honour," Phuni put his hands behind his back as if to indicate he would not have thought of plundering the prize. "Should I now?"

There was the merest nod of the black cowled head and two of his own servants stepped forward and silently and efficiently picked Merry up, ran their hands over every inch of his body, except where it was covered by the rope, then the first placed him back on the ground with a shake of his head. "Nothing, My Lord."

"What is that thing about it? Why is it bound so?" The words almost sounded compassionate, but the cruel voice left no such impression.

"It won't come off Master – er Your Honour." Although a General, Phuni was never too sure how to address this envoy from the Great One, "Seems it's some sort of elvish armour or summat like."

The man reached out and took Merry's wrist, lifting him up from his knees where he had fallen and looking into his weary face. "You're a halfling – one of those Shire-rats that the wizard keeps sending to Mordor as spies." Merry tried to answer, but all that would escape his lips was an indiscernible whisper. The pressure on Merry's wrist increased, bending his arm back painfully and making him whimper with hurt. "This is too fortunate, perfect serendipity." The cowled head was thrown back and a thin wire like stream of cutting laughter sliced through the quiet in the tent. After an exploratory pause, the servants joined their Master in crowing mirth and eventually even Phuni let out a polite guffaw although he had no idea why. 

"Those fools in Cirith Ungol lost the first one, but now that we have this one, we can show it to the wizard and let him believe we still have their little spy!" The man lifted his hand in command and the two servants stepped forward again. "Dress it in the tokens that we have brought, but be sure not to show its face when we go out." 

Another servant began to unwrap the contents of a large bag that he carried, revealing Frodo's mithril corselet and elven cloak. Merry looked dully at them, not able to work out why these things were important but knowing that they were. Suddenly, as they started to pull the mithril shirt over his head he began to struggle, realising vaguely that he should not allow them to put that on him. "Keep it still!" A voice from behind him snapped and, as he turned to try and see who had spoken, a hand grabbed his hair as a bottle's mouth was forced between his lips. Although he tried to avoid swallowing the foul liquid that was poured down his throat, the angle was too acute and Merry had to either gulp it down or suffocate. He recognised the pungent taste, it made him think with choking sadness of Pip, who now seemed a thousand lifetimes distant from him, it was orc whiskey laced with poppy juice, the same stuff he and Pippin had nearly killed themselves with in Barad-dûr.

Dimly Merry was aware of the mithril vest being pulled down over the elven rope, still clinging to his chest, a sword was buckled about his waist and the elven cloak that was wrapped about him, still had a faint aroma of Frodo about it. Gradually Merry felt reality receding further and further as the poppy juice and whiskey took hold and, by the time he was hoisted over a servant's shoulder and carried outside, he was dead to the world.

***********************************************************************************************************

"It was Frodo!" Gimli whispered the words into Legolas's ear, "The Dark Lord's envoy has the Ringbearer captive." Legolas shook his head in dismay and clutched at Gimli's arm, making the dwarf repeat what he had said in case it had been a mistake. "I saw with my own eyes, they had Frodo a prisoner, 'twas a hobbit, no mistake, still in Bilbo's mithril armour and the elven cloak."

As the Mouth of Sauron had delivered his fateful message a deep hush fell across the battlefield. Even when the servant bearing the prone body of the hobbit across his horse retreated inside the black gate, none were able to apprehend him, for two others barred the way of Aragorn and the remainder of the party were too stunned to act for the moment.

"The terms of my Lord and Master are that, the rabble of Gondor and its deluded allies shall withdraw at once beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never again to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of the Anduin shall be Sauron's for ever, solely, West of the Anduin as far as the Misty Mountains and the Gap of Rohan shall be tributary to Mordor and men there shall rebuild Isengard which they have wantonly destroyed and that shall be Sauron's and there his Lieutenant shall dwell: not Saruman, but one more worthy of trust.

The assembled party had no doubt that this foul messenger would be that Lieutenant and gather all that was left of the West under his sway; he would be their tyrant and they his slaves.

But Gandalf said, "This is much to demand for the delivery of one servant that your Master should receive in exchange what he must else fight many a war to gain!"

"Gandalf!" A small voice sounded urgently from in front of the wizard, "You do go knowed what it gotted be Merry?"

"Hush Pippin," Gandalf hissed, raising his glare back to the Mouth of Sauron, he continued. "If indeed we rated this prisoner so high, what surety have we that Sauron, the Base Master of Treachery, will keep his part?" Although Gandalf had hushed Pippin, his words had not gone unheeded. The wizard believed that Pippin would know better than anyone that it was Merry and not Frodo who was held captive –– he would call the bluff of this mendacious envoy. "Let the prisoner be brought forth and yielded to us and then we will consider these demands."

Pippin sighed and rested back against the wizard as he heard this demand, expecting the envoy to order the prisoner brought back. But Gandalf was playing a different game, he knew they would not return the hostage if it were Meriadoc.

"Do not bandy words in your insolence with the Mouth of Sauron!" cried the envoy. "Surety you crave! Sauron gives none. If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding."

"Get you gone!" Gandalf's voice rang out. "Your embassy is over and as for your terms we reject them utterly!"

"No! Gandalf!" Pippin squeaked in horror. "He gotted Merry – you not thinked it be somethings elses – We knows it be my Merry he gotted! You not…Ummmerrmmm!"

"Quiet!" Gandalf growled, his hand clamped firmly over Pippin's mouth. Then raising his voice once more, "We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves. Begone!"

Then the Messenger of Mordor laughed no more. His face was twisted with amazement and anger. Rage filled him and his mouth slavered and shapeless sounds of fury came strangling from his throat. He gave a great cry and turned his steed and, with his company, galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. 

Little time was left to Aragorn for the ordering of his battle, but even before he directed the battalions to strategic positions, he took council with Gandalf, Éomer and the other Captains of the assembled armies, the small group dismounting and standing in a small circle atop a wide mound. "Is it possible that I should refrain from sending these soldiers to certain death? That was Frodo for sure and, if the Ringbearer has failed, there is no hope for our success."

"I am certain it was not he." Gandalf kept his arm about Pippin who was now sobbing inconsolably, his face buried in the wizard's cloak. "At least I am sure that Peregrin knows which cousin is which and, although I do not understand how it came about or how this hobbit knows, that prisoner was young Meriadoc, not Frodo."

"That carries no logic!" Éomer put his hand on Pippin's shoulder. "How could it be little one? We left Meriadoc in the Houses of Healing, even if he left Minas Tirith straight after us he could not have reached the Black Gate in this time, let alone be captured."

"Well he's been taken before by a Nazgûl," Gimli pointed out. "Perhaps that is what happened, somehow. Perhaps Minas Tirith was attacked and Merry was taken."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, "I dread to think that and yet… if Merry was the prisoner, it means Frodo may yet be free."

"It go be…" Pippin hiccupped and swallowed several loud sobs before continuing. "…b-be it… do be my Merry… We does knows it."

"How Pippin?" Aragorn insisted, "You must explain how you know that for certain."

"When Merry and me meeted Frodo in Kircish Unglow…"

"Cirith Ungol?" Gandalf corrected automatically.

"What We sayed…" Pippin continued. "he didn't not got no things on he and Sam getted he more clotheses off on a orcses. So he not go getted a missril coats and not gotted no swords like is that one, so it not can't be We Frodo and it do be my Merry... and… and We knows it be anyhows."

Aragorn blinked a little at this garbled litany and, looking up, caught Gandalf's eye. The wizard nodded sagely, confirming he believed Pippin was right and that it was Merry, not Frodo, who was captive. Legolas moved to the hobbit, following the sound of his sobs, first capturing the little face in his hands and moving his thumbs down Pippin's cheeks to wipe away the tears and then enfolding him gently in his arms. Pippin snuggled briefly into the elf's kind embrace and then, gulping back his sorrow, straightened himself and looked up at Gandalf. "What We got go do now?"

"You had better stay with me, Peregrin Took." Gandalf lifted Pippin back up onto Shadowfax, "There is a battle to fight and I think this will be the safest place for you – if anywhere is safe in such a situation. Now hold on tightly and don't jump down – for any reason."

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

Author's Notes:

We seem to have Awards upon us again. I was quite enamoured to be nominated in the Golden Mushroom Awards as these are fun things and not for writers who take themselves too seriously. 

Here you will find the links to the Golden Mushroom Awards (or check on my Author's Page on ff.net)

http:**www.west-of-the-moon.net*gma.htm (as always replace * with slashes as ff.net strips them out when posted.)

Recaptured is nominated in the Boil Vey Award—most unusual symptom - which I think is Pippin's weird speech but could also be them being blind and deaf.

Best Hobbit Wino - Recaptured chapter 19 part two which is Merry's drunken bout.

BUT and, MOST IMPORTANTLY, Recaptured is nominated for the BEST USE OF A CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE. Now this seems the most appropriate award for Recap as it must be the only fic on the block that has Pippin hooked on opium – right? So please, if you vote for nothing else, give Recap it's place in fanfic history for this inappropriate use of an innocent hobbit!

Honourable Marlin Perkins Award - Moria's Revenge by Kookaburra and Llinos which is for best use of an animal and that's Icicle! Yay Go Icicle!

There are also the My Precious Awards, but as these are mainly Elf driven I'm not holding my breath. However Recaptured is nominated as is The Lay of Peregrin Took in the poetry section and I'd love to see that get some votes. Also Marigold is up for a Beta award so a vote there would be good. The link for this one and details of all nominations are on my Author's Profile page on ff.net. Just click on Llinos at the top to go there.

Authors don't get a lot of fun, chained to computers, forced to write endlessly for no pay – so a vote or two would be massively appreciated! You'll find other favourites over there too, such as Baylor and Shirebound, Kooks and Budgielover, SandyK and Kimby, Emma et al – show your support and vote!

Questions, Comments and (occasionally) Answers:-

In the meantime, welcome to Lady Lanet, to Lise, to Pathyain Aelien, to star's dreams and curly29! It's so good to see new readers brave enough to tackle this mammoth fic. I hope you are still enjoying it and that the new readers will be patient as I update – I plan to get a shift on as I have so much of it in my head I need to write it before it falls out!

Lindelea: And who is this? Am I missing something? How did the mithril-coated figure end up where it did?  
Llinos: I hope it's all clear now.

Sakura123: you seemed to have a different take on the ending of "the Two Towers" Ending...   
Llinos: Yes – it's an AU – Alternate Universe. One thing happens differently and everything else changes.  
Sakura123: The super Hero... THOR... has a political meaning to it! *Laughs uncontrollably*  
Llinos: See – I thought THOR was the Norse God of Thunder, after whom Thursday is named. I didn't even know he was supposed to be a super-hero. Hey ho!

Mistoffelees: I bought that cardboard standup of the hobbits  
Llinos: Well that's good news!  
Mistoffelees: That rainbow line was hilarious in itself.  
Llinos: And you've not seen the last of it – well if you keep reading you haven't.

:) : I loved this chapter!  
Llinos: :) : Ah good – and I loved your review. You've obviously been paying close attention – so a big gold star for you!

ssi3 Thomas: how would Éowyn react to masses of undead Zombies, I am trying to get ideas for a fic I'm hoping to have time to write.   
Llinos: She would smite them all (with Merry's help of course!)  
ssi3 Thomas: Can I get on Marigold's waiting list, I'll bring her sticksess  
Llinos: Ohh! You'd have to ask her that!

Sandy K: Who does The Mouth of Sauron have slung over his horse?! I've got a good idea, but will be keeping it to myself!  
Llinos: Were you right? Betcha next week's rations and 10 skinny hobbit miles!

FantasyFan: They could paint him blue and keep him safe!  
Llinos:  love your reviews and this line I loved best of all – it's such a nice image – I may just have to do it!

Eldarin Queen: Thats Merry they have isnt it!  
Llinos: Rats! Sussed again!

Baylor: you write the hobbits in happier days so well, it makes me want more.  
Llinos: Oh no – I'll leave that to you!

SarahSweetie: right there by Gandalf...they can get him back!  
Llinos: No – they rode off with him again – before Aragorn or Gandalf could stop them! Sorry! Merry is back in Mordor again!

aelfgifu: I must ask- is this when Merry gets re-re-recaptured?  
Llinos: That's the name of the story! 

sam: The battle is getting close and that means the two orcs will meet their little Pips again, right? :)  
Llinos: In the words of Treebeard "Don't be hasty!"

Xena: Smagnu and Grutfley have the right idea: Try not to get killed. If only everyone lived by that advice.  
Llinos: I love these long analytical reviews! Thank you Xena. Ahh Orcs are far smarter than world leaders give them credit for.

pippin-the-thain: can i take the fell beast (bloodclaw) home with me please? she isnt nasty...just misunderstood! please?  
Llinos: Er – yes – I guess so – pretty much finished with her now.  
pippin-the-thain: gets tackled by security* oh well  
Llinos: "No! That's all right – I said she could have it!" 

Pearl Took: I'll be honest and admit that I have been starting to feel that this was starting to drag on too long, but somehow, this chapter has pulled me back again.  
Llinos: Oh dear! Does anyone else find this story dragging on too long? I can stop if you do! 

Periadoc: gasp

Llinos: Whew!

Stef: update before Christmas. *wink* Or maybe New Years?  
Llinos: New Year it is – Well Jan 1st by a whisker!

curly29: JUST managed 2 read recaptured and recaptured continued in about 10 hours so i have read about 110 chapters in that time so i must be a die hard fan.  
Llinos: Truly you must! Welcome to Recaptured!  
curly29: Why can't the hobbits e.g. Merry mind talk to Gandalf as he can mind talk as well.  
Llinos: Good question. He can and does sometimes, but Gandalf is a much higher being than the hobbits and he finds it disturbing to have them in his head. They tend to be disorganised and rambunctious in their thinking which is annoying for him. Also his mind is a bit too big for them to deal with and he overwhelms them somewhat. That said, both Merry and Pippin are getting better at mindspeak and are more able to deal with Gandalf now – he was surprised himself the last time he joined with them. Also his mindspeak tends not to link with them over long distances, which Legolas can. However, at the moment there is a danger that Sauron, who has also gained access to the hobbit's mindspeak, may overhear information – even their whereabouts – or Frodo's, which is why they are maintaining radio silence at the moment.

redtoes: I have to say you're a master of cliffhangers - one for every chapter.  
Llinos: It's just my Machiavellian way of keeping you coming back! Mwah ha ha!   
redtoes: Merry Christmas & Nos dda.  
Llinos: Nadolig Llawen and Blydden Newydd Hapus! (Merry Xmas and Happy New Year) to you!

meatball: MERRY!! AH!! Frodo?? What i'm lost!  
Llinos: Whoops – sorry!

Pathvain Aelien: Hurry with the updates  
Llinos: I'll do my best! Life keeps jumping up and biting me in the neck!

Lise: Just... whoah. Absolutely love this fic.  
Llinos: Good! i absolutely love people who love this fic – and that means you!

Lady Lanet: Good story  
Llinos: Thanks and welcome to Recaptured!

neko: sugoi... my buddy, AdrienneD, told me about this not to long ago  
Llinos: Oh yes – where is AdrienneD?  
neko: i especially love Smagnu and Grutfley!

Llinos: I'm thinking of starting them their own fanclub!  
neko: WHAT!?!?!? *bashes hitori over head with guard rifle*  
hitori: ITAI! *grumbles* stupid female hikari.  
Llinos: Okay – didn't understand any of that – shall I just stand over here for a moment?   
neko: hopefully pippin will recognize his beloved orc friends. i'm sure they wouldn't mind escorting pip to mount doom to destroy the ring.  
Llinos: Hey – mind the plot – you're standing in the plot! Thank you!  
hitori: heh heh. groll the troll. very clever. and i can definitely read the Celtic influence on your writing, what with the woad and what not.  
Llinos: Yes I confess to that – Woad's the stuff to clothe men, Woad to scare your foemen! Boil it to, a brilliant blue, and rub it on your back and your ab-domen! Ancient Britons, never hit on, anything as good as woad to fit on, necks or knees or where you sit on! etc.. etc. There's more but hey!  
neko: I must say that it's rather irksome to see that AdrienneD hasn't reviewed for some time, especially considering the fact that she's the one who told me of this fic in the first place! *shrugs* ah well, i'll just force her if i must.  
Llinos: Mwhah hah!  
neko: well, congradulations! you just snagged yourself a new reader! two if you include annoying muses/yamis!  
hitori: hey!  
Llinos: Cool – welcome to you (ahem) both!

Marigold: "Wonderful long review"  
Llinos: It's a good thing you explain to me what I write, because sometimes I don't follow it too well! :-)

star's dreams: I only hope that you will finish this story.  
Llinos: Marigold says I have to write 150 chapters, but we'll see.  
star's dreams: You should defiantly write a book when you come up with your own world  
Llinos: Thank you – I might even try that – all I need is encouragement (and a large sack of money)! :-)


	31. Into Battle

Into Battle

Recaptured – Chapter 123

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold  
  
"HeyyyaaarrrHupp!" The mighty cry rang out across the Udûn marsh and was taken up by many braying horns and under it all a steady doom-laden drumbeat thundered and resounded in time with the feet of ten thousand orcs stomping through the mire and filth of the battlefield. Slowly the great army rolled forward and, even as the Black Gate opened, Aragorn, Éomer, Imrahil and the other Captains urged their battalions to stand firm against the onslaught.

The great army of Mordor stretched back as far as human eyes could see and it moved slowly but relentlessly forward. The Men of the West held their ground, better for the forces of Sauron to come forth than for them to rush towards their doom. There was wave upon wave of misshapen orcs and Uruks, armed with spear and sword. Behind them marched ranks of orc archers, already letting fly with barrages of deadly arrows. Between these plodded great mountain trolls, towering over the orcs, their hides as thick as stone and their ugly faces blank and uncomprehending.

Pippin looked out in awe and trepidation at the advancing hordes, his little hands twisted nervously through Shadowfax's mane, tears still hot on his face as he thought about Merry and what might have become of him. "Gandalf, is We gone go finding my Merry in a littlel while? We got go get he you know."

"Pippin, you know that's not possible at the moment." Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward. "Now you just hold still, I have to deal with the Nazgûl as far as I am able, so I can do without any added distractions from you." Gandalf could not mistake the tremor of grief that ran though Pippin's frame, even though the hobbit did not answer back. He put his arm comfortingly around Pippin and pulled him close for a moment. "I know… I know… you just have to be brave." The wizard smiled a little as he felt the hobbit draw a deep breath and saw him grit his teeth.

A terrible roar spread across the plain on the Morannon and echoed up to the black and overcast skies as the two armies clashed. Aragorn's battalion took the first brunt, as the orcs fell upon them, slashing and laying about with cudgels and axes. There was little skill in their fighting, but sheer weight of numbers made them terrifying opponents. Éomer's troops tried to cut around to the side, making a valiant inroad into the depths of the great army. They held their ground, skill winning out over brute force.

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Gimli, sitting always in front of Legolas on Arod ever since the elf had been blinded by Sauron in the mind link, wheeled the horse around, following orders from Aragorn to move to the rear of the battlefield. Without warning, the elf suddenly seized the reins from him and urged the horse back towards the thundering drumbeat. 

"No, no laddie!" Gimli attempted to wrestle control back but could not do so without endangering them both as Legolas was obviously not going to give up without a struggle. "We can't – that is you can't fight in a war – not without your eyes! All right, I'll admit elves are good – are you satisfied? But even you're not that good!"

Legolas smiled faintly to himself, he was not certain he could fight in this battle, but he was not about to be left out – particularly as he and Gimli still had a score, or rather a tally, to settle. He dropped the reins for a moment and, feeling for Gimli's face, he carefully held up four fingers before the dwarf's eyes and then followed that with two fingers, then patted the dwarf on the chest. Then he held up four fingers, followed by one finger and struck his own breast.

In spite of the situation, Gimli chortled a little, "Aye that still rubs sore wi' ye! Forty one to you and forty two to me at Helm's Deep. But this is hardly the time to try and even the score!"

Legolas reached his hands around again and gently touched Gimli's eyes and then his mouth, feeling for Gimli's hand he squeezed it affectionately and then pressed both his hands against the dwarf's heart.

His friend understood. Since Legolas had lost his sight and power of speech, he, Gimli, had been his eyes and mouth. The dwarf took the long slender hands in his and clasped them tightly. "Aye then laddie, we'll do it together. It'll probably be the last thing we'll do, but I can think of worse ways to meet our end." Taking up the reins once more, Gimli turned Arod towards the battle.

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Sniggin and Bloggin were glad they had something more pressing than the battle to occupy them. In the middle of the great army, the two little orcs, dressed in their scratched together armour and coated with their blue woad, were coaxing Groll the troll forward. Bloggin had kept the large ladle in his hand as, even though there was no food in it, the prospect still interested Groll enormously. The little pair had even dressed the monster up for the battle as best they could. Groll had a large metal breastplate that the brothers had cobbled together from several smaller broken ones that they had managed to steal and then tied about their troll, his straggled bits of hair were tied into a topknot on his crown and his face had been painted a vivid shade of blue. With every step forward that he took the other trolls followed, thumping relentlessly on to meet their much smaller but quicker opponents.

Smagnu and Grutfley kept their battalion together as far as they could, their advice to protect themselves, but not to strike first if possible, probably a better defence than their shoddy armour or blunt and often rusty weapons. The Uruk glanced about him and realised that they made a strange sight, a splash of blue amid a sea of black, he wondered if any of the Generals had noticed.

They were almost upon the main part of the fighting now, dragging through the deep pools of mire that lay in their path, the sound of screams and sword clash grew fiercer. As the Nazgûl flew overhead, stabbing fear into the orcs and Easterlings as well as their opponents, great shafts of light seemed to flash across the sky, pushing the fell beasts and their riders higher and out of range of the battling armies. 

Smagnu blinked rapidly trying to see what was happening. There was a flash of white before him and he realised that there was some strange elven magic at work here. "Here, Grut! Watch out for that lightening – that ain't natural, got some spell in it by the looks. Keep our lot away from it if'n yer can."

Grutfley was very superstitious at the best of times, strange white flashes of light in the middle of a battle were definitely to be avoided to his mind, although at the moment the place that seemed least affected by the light was the area it was coming from. He moved around to the side of Groll and shouted at his handlers, "Oi Snig, Blog, Getcha yerselves over yonder a bit – keep out the way of them Nazgûl and them flashes if'n yer can. There's an openin' this way!"

Sniggin looked to where Grutfley was pointing, climbing up onto Groll's leg and hanging there for a better view. There was indeed a vague path through the mayhem in the direction indicated, it was the place from where the white light seemed to emanate. "Groll – go here!" Sniggin leapt down and started to hammer on the troll's leg, while Bloggin danced off in the direction Sniggin pointed waving his ladle. 

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Pippin had let go of Shadowfax's mane with one hand and managed to draw his sword, just in case. He had seen Gandalf use his staff to bring forth a magical shielding light before. The wizard had been able to ward off the Nazgûl that attacked him and Legolas outside Minas Tirith and had proved effective against even the Balrog for a time. However, in Moria it had ultimately not saved him. 

Gandalf was already radiating a great shield of white light up into the sky, aimed at the Nazgûl, although the Seven, whilst pushed back by the force of the brilliance, would skirt their winged beasts around it and launch their attack upon another area. The whole battlefield was just too vast for even the White Wizard to encompass the whole of it in his power.

Pippin levered himself up a little to get a better view of the whole battle. It seemed to be total mayhem, men laying about orcs, chopping at them and frequently taking off a hand or arm, perhaps a head. The orcs were slower but relentless and they were frequently armed with blunt instruments rather than blades and Pippin could see many men fall under the flailing blow of an axe or hammer. 

Pippin looked to where the mighty trolls were lumbering through the carnage and blinked a little. It seemed strange but it was almost as if there were a swathe of blue cutting through the mass, just under where Gandalf's light was tracing its arc up through the sky. The hobbit thought just for a moment that it looked like a blue river meandering across a map of blackness and wondered what he was seeing. 

Then, in amongst the entire melee, he saw another sight that caught him off guard. Legolas, his dear elf, was in amongst the thick of the fighting. Pippin gasped! How could his blind friend even think of hand-to-hand combat with orcs when he could not even see? He would be killed for certain. "Gandalf! What it do Legolas go in the fightering? He go not do that – he gone be get killeded. Stop he Gandalf – please stop he!"

Gandalf frowned, "I thought Gimli was to take him to the rear of the fight. This is not good! Fool of an Elf! It must be your influence of recklessness young Peregrin."

"Hmp!" Pippin snorted but made no other comment. He shielded his eyes to see a little better. Legolas was holding his own, seeming to sense where the orcs were, although he also stayed very close to Gimli. Arod was nowhere in sight and the two were both on foot, fighting their way through to the blue wave of orcs to where the trolls were marching forward. "Gandalf please go get he – not let We Legolas go be died! Please go We?"

Gandalf looked down at Pippin's earnest face gazing pleadingly up at him. "Come then, although I suspect he will not thank us."

Shadowfax feared no orc and, skilfully avoiding all arrows and spears, the Lord of the Mearas wound his way through the field towards the elf and dwarf. As the sound of the Nazgûl cries increased, Pippin felt himself suddenly drawn to clutch tightly to the Ring about his neck, almost slipping it on, until Gandalf saw and slapped his hand away. "Do not even think of such a thing Peregrin Took!" The wizard admonished him.

Pippin shook his head as if to steady his mind then, looking up, in that moment saw something that made his heart clench and almost cease beating!

Legolas had fought his way blindly towards the centre of the onslaught and was before the greatest of the trolls. The enormous beast was casting stupidly about, although it did not seem to be hitting much. Two small orcs were before it, their faces strangely blue and one of them was brandishing a shiny dagger in one hand and in the other, oddly, a ladle. The other was armed with a bow and arrows, although he did not appear to be using them.

Legolas, not seeing the small orcs and only barely sensing them, leapt straight for the troll, but the creature picked him up and cast him aside. The elf leapt to his feet once more and the little orcs tried to form a barrier in front of the troll as if they would ward off further attacks with their own small bodies. 

Gimli, briefly delayed from keeping up with Legolas, was heading towards the fray but, before he could arrive, a large Uruk-hai appeared in front of the two little blue painted orcs and swiped desperately at the elf. He caught Legolas a glancing blow, which surprised the blind elf as he felt sure this new assailant could have killed him with a stroke had he meant to, but it also helped, as he could now tell where his opponent was.

Gandalf and Pippin had almost reached the fight with the troll as Legolas deftly drew an arrow and nocked it, turning it as he did towards the Uruk that had struck at him. Before the arrow was fired though, Legolas was suddenly assailed by frantic stab of thought and a flash of vision. The thought screamed in unison with an external voice "Nooooo! Not go kill!"

_'nooo not be go kill he legolas!'_

Even if the thought had not stayed his hand, the vision did. Legolas, all at once saw his proposed victim in front of him quite clearly – it was Pippin! His bow dropped down, horrified that he might have made such a mistake. But then he clearly heard the halfling's voice behind him. Legolas knew that Pippin had sent the image, but he was not before him, it must be the Uruk – why had Pippin done that?

It had been seconds and now Gimli arrived beside the elf. He wasted no time on pleasantries and, sidestepping the Uruk, swung his great axe at the monster before him, gouging a great cut in the soft underbelly. The troll moaned and grunted, flailing around, it was not mortally wounded but it had lost its balance and was hurt. With a great groan it toppled forward. The two little orcs scampered out of the way, but Legolas, confused and disoriented from the vision and the mind message, turned too late. The great beast rolled to the ground, crushing Legolas beneath it.

With a roar, Gimli turned upon the massive Uruk that had moved to stand between him and the fallen troll, but before his axe could land a small form barrelled into him screaming at the top of his high, muddled voice. In the background Gimli could hear Gandalf shouting angrily, "Peregrin Took you come back here at once! You are not to get down from Shadowfax!"

But the hobbit paid no attention, it seemed to the dwarf that Pippin had finally and completely lost his mind and was trying to hold back his axe, both little hands locked about the dwarf's wrist, crying out, "You no go killinged this one orc Gimli – you go killing othrer ones orcs! This one go be We orc!"

"Pippin, Pippin!" Gimli frantically hauled the angry little creature off him. "You can kill it if you want, but you're not in our tally contest young hobbit and I have to kill this one to get that damn troll off Legolas."

"No! No! Not go killinged he!" Pippin squealed. And to the astonishment of all around, orcs, men, dwarf and wizard, he grabbed hold of the Uruk's leg. "He be bigstrong go get We Legolas out! He be We orc! He be Smagnude!"

The Uruk in turn picked him up and held him to his chest. "Little Pip!" he exclaimed in the common tongue, sounding both surprised and excited, "You can talk!"

TBC

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A/N: 

An Appeal on Behalf of the Author:

There is one day left – just one – in which you can cast your votes for the Golden Mushroom Awards! The link is on my Author's Page (just click Llinos at the top of the page) or substitute slashes for * (asterisks) in the following: http:**www.west-of-the-moon.net*gma.htm

You can vote for Recaptured nominated in the Boil Vey Award—most unusual symptom - which I guess is Pippin's weird speech.

Best Hobbit Wino = Recaptured chapter 19 part two and

Honourable Marlin Perkins Award = Moria's Revenge by Kookaburra and Llinos which is for best use of an animal and that's Icicle!

BUT, AND **MOST IMPORTANTLY**! Recaptured is nominated for the **BEST USE OF A CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE**. Now this seems the most appropriate award for Recap as it must be the only fic on the block that has Pippin hooked on opium – right? So please, if you vote for nothing else, give Recap it's place in fanfic history for this inappropriate use of an innocent hobbit! By doing this you will finally be avenged on this dreadful author for her callous treatment of said hobbit!

Having craved your indulgence I now beg your forgiveness! Yes this is a really short chapter, but I have lots planned out and will be posting again really, really, everso soon – promsis!

Llinos

On to the Questions, Comments and Rude Replies

Pearl Took: Keep writing, really, and I'll keep reading.  
Llinos: Well that seems like a good bargain! Thanks!

aelfgifu: OH-did the pics get linked?  
Llinos: That's Kooks' department, you have to ask her, but I think so. Yes – Marigold says they are – she saw them and liked them very much and do you do requests?  
aelfgifu: of course, I supported Recaptured!  
Llinos: Oh and I loved your acceptance speech for the MPA's! Just didn't get round to telling you yet – sorry! Hey everyone – Emma wrote a funny po'm about her award!

ShireMaidens: What a seriously short chapter.  
Llinos: Actually it wasn't really – it was over 5k words and had poems and everything, time must fly when you're etc…  Now this is a really short chapter (2.5k+ words) – but don't worry there'll be more really soon.

SarahSweetie: And Faramir and Eowyn not even there? bleh?  
Llinos: Soon, soon – have patience.

Sam: No stop!  
Llinos: All right – not just yet then – as long as there are reviews, I will write.  
Sam: Why do you always put poor Merry in a cage and beat him with a stick?  
Llinos: I'm sorry, is that wrong of me?

Xena: I'm wondering if General Phuni was made fun of as a little orc, called names like "Puny Phuni  
Llinos: I think he got teased along the lines of "I suppose you think you're funny?" 

star's dreams: dream money don't work in the real world.  
Llinos: No, it's fine, star's (may I call you star's?) just so long as you only buy dream groceries and, well, I've always wanted to live in a dream house, so that works.

NekoHitori: : i wonder why the fell beast didn't eat merry, though... *ponders*  
Llinos: Oh… oh I can answer that! It's because, if you are a fell beast (you're not are you?) But if you are, then elven rope tastes really nasty.

Sakura123: {lots of stuff}  
Llinos: A) Yes, B) Later, C) You will! Éowyn and Faramir talk in the book, but not the film. Thor is Norse, Hercules is Greek, Moria's Revenge is scary – but it gets less so after Chapter 7ish. I will! I know.

:) : I hope he {Pippin} doesn't get himself into more trouble trying to find him {Merry}!  
Llinos: Oh, now what are the chances of that?

Meatball: If you kill off one of the Hobbits i shalt rip out thy intestines and play jump rope with them whilst i watch you suffer and i shalt savour your agonizing screams  
Llinos: Hey that could be a good fic!

ssi3 Thomas: I mean couldn't the old doc from Minas Tirith have gotten snatched up instead.  
Llinos: But where's the fun in that? Great site BTW!

august wynd: Oh, a battle what fun for Pip!  
Llinos: Yes!

Mistoffelees: I don't think I read the last chapter right, because I automatically assumed it was Merry.  
Llinos: Nah – you're just smart! Oh and thanks for the votes – really appreciate it!

Lindelea: Are you going to cheat us "Pip and the Troll" fans the way Peter Jackson did?  
Llinos: Um – possibly (looks suitably embarrassed) but then he still has things to do and things to be done unto him and I got Leggie for you – I seem to have run out of spare hobbits.

curly29: 2 questions has Merry lost his memory and y can't he speak?  
Llinos: No and he can, except he's actually suffering from shock – it's just that I can't say that, as it hasn't been invented in Middle Earth – but that's what's wrong.

QTPie: is pip's speech progressively getting worse still or am i just imagining things?  
Llinos: Yes slightly – well it certainly isn't getting better.

jeodo brandybuck: He's going to jump down -- isn't he?  
Llinos: Rats! You spotted it!

The Lauderdale: Not a phrase I've heard before--did you coin it yourself, or is it known slang?  
Llinos: No, I'm sorry to say that is all my own work – Marigold says I'm odd.  
The Lauderdale: Out of curiosity, will we ever get to read any Orcish mindspeech in this story?  
Llinos: Now there's a thought – hmm!

Baylor: I noted that he refers to Frodo as "We Frodo," but Merry as "my Merry" -- most interesting! And I don't think by chance  
Llinos: Okay, you get the gold star – well spotted!

Breon Briarwood: You are an evil, cruel, wonderful writer. Please keep it up!  
Llinos: How could I refuse such an invitation – thank you!

redtoes: ARGH! NO! Not Merry!  
Llinos: Oh but Merry can take it – he loves it really you know.


	32. Left Hanging

Left Hanging  
Recaptured – Chapter 124

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Majdi Rann, chief bondsman to the Mouth of Sauron, was not jealous of his position. He had come to it only by default when his predecessor had been decapitated in the machinery of the torture equipment in the bowels of Barad-dûr. It was not an accident. This was why Majdi did not expect to ever resign from his post. His position was his life and he preferred to keep both as long as possible.

He rode back through the Great Gate, cutting a swathe through the throng of orcs that parted at his approach. The small creature slung across his saddle stirred a little, making the bright rings on the mithril shirt glint in the false light of the battle that had begun. Majdi pulled back the elven cloak a little further to take a closer look at the halfling. It was still drugged from the opium and whiskey it had been force-fed, its eyes were half open now, but glazed and distant. "Keep still!" He ordered sharply and the creature looked up at him blankly, no fear in its blinking eyes, but no hope either. It seemed to be expecting death and had relinquished all expectation of further existence or life of its own. A little like himself, Majdi thought.

When the rider came at last to the billet of General Phuni he threw the little bundle down to several waiting orcs. As he dismounted, two more leapt forward to take his horse and he retrieved his charge, not trusting any other to deliver the halfling safely and knowing the consequences should he lose it. He slung the small form over his shoulder and marched inside the barrack that was formed from a natural hollow in the wall of the mountain, but went deep inside. The place was, for the most part, sparsely furnished, although General Phuni's quarters were better equipped than most. The General himself was gone, summoned no doubt to the battle, and probably safer for it. 

Majdi closed the door and set the creature down on its feet, but it could not stand yet and immediately crumpled to the floor, still too dazed and drugged to be fully conscious. He turned it over and looked appraisingly at it. It did not look very impressive. Half the size of a man with strange ears and feet that weren't quite right, like an elf it had no beard, but unlike the elves, appeared more child than anything else. Looking at it like that, he began to feel vaguely uncomfortable with drugging and ill-treating what appeared to be a small child.

His thoughts did not have time to take root though for, moments later, his Master walked through the door held open for him by his second servant. He prodded the prone creature with his booted foot. "Lives it yet?"

"It does Master," Majdi answered swiftly, and bent to pull the creature to a sitting position, shaking it slightly, hoping to get a reaction to prove he had not failed his Lord.

"Leave it now!" The Mouth of Sauron commanded, "There is much to accomplish. Listen carefully to what I will tell you." 

Majdi laid the creature face down on the floor and quickly hurried to help the other three servants make their Master comfortable. His helm was removed and his cloak, a chair and refreshments were quickly found and the four then stood before the Lord, waiting patiently while he took some wine and ate a small cake, to hear his words.

"Sauron understands well the weakness and the strength of his opponents. It was no mystery to Him that the lost King of Gondor is returned and has rallied a rag-tag army to oppose him. He knows that Rohan had defeated Saruman's army at Helm's Deep and now stands foursquare with Gondor. He also knows that the prophesy of Glorfindel has come to pass and that the Witch King of Angmar had been brought down by a woman and a halfling." The Envoy paused and looked at the solemn faces before him. "None of this is pleasing for The Great Lord Sauron." Their expressions did not change, but the halfling on the floor turned his head slightly and whimpered a small cry."

"Keep it quiet!" 

Majdi moved quickly forward and put his foot warningly on the small one's head, keeping it there with the unspoken threat of a kick should it make a noise.

The Envoy continued, "Lord Sauron is angry that Khamul the Shadow of the East, His lieutenant in Dol Guldur; has now also been laid low by that infernal pretender to the Steward of Minas Tirith. Denethor had been in His thrall, but the Steward's son was another matter. Although he seemed weaker than his father, Lord Sauron knew him to be the stronger man for all his appearance denied it.

"But His Ring! The Lord's chief desire – He seeks it still! He knew that a halfling carried it – He saw the wretch in the palantír with the Heir of Isildur. It had ridden at the head of the army that assaulted His gate. Now we have witnessed it with our own eyes."

The halfling stirred again and tried to lift its head, but Majdi pressed down harder with his boot until it subsided once more.

The Mouth of Sauron narrowed his eyes at the movement, then continued, "The Great Lord has demanded that we must find and bring him this halfling at all costs. It is more important now than any other endeavour. We could not take it while it was with the cursed White Wizard, so we must tempt the Grey Fool away from it, and now…" He looked down at the halfling crushed on the ground before him, "…now we have some bait."

The four servants looked expectantly at their Master, not daring to ask and yet still uncertain what they must do. Eventually Majdi dared the question. "How will we tempt the Wizard to come, Master?"

The cold lip curled in a sneer, "You simpletons could not know of course. We must sue for a truce. I shall go out to meet the Wizard again and offer him some respite from battle. I will offer him from noon-day to noon-morrow to come to their senses. He will take this chance, they are sorely outnumbered. This is imperative as I do not want the halfling killed before the Great Lord has what He needs from it. Then we shall offer this hostage…" He reached his foot forward to kick at the little heap on the floor, "…to the White Wizard at the gate. Tie him and dangle him from the wall so that he will come for him."

Majdi looked at the curled up creature and then at his Master, "What will that achieve Master – I do not understand."

The man snapped his fingers, indicating to his servants that they should bring food now. "Imbecile! Do you not see? We will offer this hostage as a token of our truce, the fools are not so hard-nosed that they will refuse. The Wizard will then leave the other halfling in order to rescue this one, I will make sure those are the terms, that he comes alone, then the Nazgûl can take the other – the halfling that bears the Ring."

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As Gandalf, Gimli, Sniggin, Bloggin and Grutfley stood frozen in speechless amazement in the middle of the raging battle, Smagnu held Pippin out to look at him, the hobbit's legs dangling 3 feet off the ground, "Little Pip!" He almost managed to smile.

"Smagnude!" Pippin hit at the Uruk's arm with his little fist to get his full attention. "Go get you troll off We elf! – Go do now – he gotted big hurted We can **_hear_** he mind in We head and he be 'liveded - **_living_**! Quickerly Smagnude!" Pippin realised the orc could not understand him. He squeezed his eyes shut and made a big effort, "**_Get you troll_** **_UP_**!"

Smagnu kept hold of Pippin but barked out an order, "Sniggin, Bloggin! Get Groll on his feet – now!"

Sniggin had seen the wound the troll had sustained but he could also see that the beast was far from dead. He and Bloggin knew, without discussion, that this would be a tricky operation – getting a wounded and hurt troll to stand up. Sniggin jumped up on the troll's back and, using two hands, grabbed the topknot and pulled the great head up. "Up Groll! Up!" he yelled. "Get fud soon! Up!"

Gimli spluttered in exasperation and started to push forward, desperate to get the heavy, crushing carcase off his friend, but Gandalf laid a restraining hand on his shoulder, "Just wait for a moment Gimli – they may save time."

Bloggin danced his little dance in front of the monster, waving his ladle about and lifting his hands up to indicate that he wanted him on his feet. "Good Groll! Not hurt! Bloggin make better! Up Groll!"

With a groan and a roar of pain, Groll seized his belly, but dragged his frame up off the ground, revealing Legolas beneath, crushed and unconscious. Gimli rushed forward now, oblivious to all else, and knelt down to feel for a heartbeat or movement. A beat – a pulse – waiting. "He lives!" Gimli looked up with a crooked smile, forgetting for a moment his audience, "He's alive!"

"What We sayed!" Pippin pointed out, wondering why Gimli seemed to forget that he and Legolas were linked in their minds. "We go hear he in We head We does."

At that moment all attention was riveted to a single point. A clarion, blaring horn sounded across the battlefield and, as all looked towards the Black Gate, the source of the sound, a great white flag appeared, hoisted high above the battlements. Gradually, as a wave of breeze ripples across a wheat field, the fighting subsided and an uneasy silence fell across the Dagorlad Plain.

Smagnu looked at Pippin again, turning him slightly this way and that, and the hobbit grinned back at him, "He go 'live Smag! We elf go be 'live! We told them. And We Smag go be more 'live too. Merry sayed you go 'live and We not go see'd you – but Merry go sayed." Then Pippin's smile left his face at the thought, "Now We not got know where My Merry go be 'live."

"Little Pip?" Smagnu shook him a little as if he were a toy that had gone wrong. "I can hear yer talking – but I've no idea what ye're saying."

"Pippin?" Gandalf straightened up from looking at Legolas, "What in Middle earth are you doing?"

The hobbit opened his mouth to explain and then realised he was still three feet off the ground. "Smagnude – can you put We down now?" 

The Uruk stared at him for a moment, still not used the sounds issuing forth from his former charge. "Down? Yer wants down." He placed Pippin on the ground and looked around, unsure what to do next. The vast swathe of Sauron's army was moving back towards the gate and he was rather nervous of the angry dwarf that seemed to be oddly upset about a damaged elf, to say nothing of the grey bearded old man that was with Pippin. Smagnu was not certain, but had the strong feeling that little Pip's new keeper might be a wizard, definitely not the sort to be tangled with.

Pippin took a firm hold of Smagnu's hand and looked up at Gandalf once more to try and explain, but the wizard's attention was now elsewhere. From out of the Black Gate, through the hordes of retreating orcs and Easterlings, rode the Embassy once more, The Mouth of Sauron had obviously called this truce as he wished to speak once more. 

Aragorn was suddenly at Gandalf's side, quickly viewing the situation – Legolas was unconscious and obviously injured, blood on his lips and brow, his arm at an impossibly awkward angle and yet, thankfully, still living. Gimli was busy organising his friend's care, making a stretcher and preparing to splint the broken limb and bind the wounds. Over them loomed a wounded mountain troll that was moaning and clutching its belly, moving worriedly from foot to foot as two strange little orcs with blue faces slapped globs of mud onto its gash. 

And Pippin! Pippin was holding hands with a massive and menacing Uruk-hai captain and talking to a fat bandy-legged orc next to him. "Did you go see My Merry in there, Mr Grumpfly? We go losted he so much now and he be in there where you comed from." The orc frowned and banged his ear, very much the way Gimli tended to do when trying to understand the muddled hobbit. 

The Ranger shook his head, like a man who is pot-valiant and has just been served a kettle of mead by a grinning pink dragon in a purple sequined ball gown. He turned away from the scene to the wizard, deciding to ignore what might well be a battle fatigue induced hallucination, "Gandalf, we are summoned once more. I cannot tell why, but Sauron is calling for a truce. As you see the armies are retreating, but no doubt they will return should we refuse the embassy – the time may help us."

"Indeed my friend," Gandalf agreed, "But for this battalion." He waved his hand at the hundred or so orcs that stood close to them, mostly of the smaller breed, and all with blue painted faces, not fighting but waiting as if for an instruction. "I suspect they may belong to Pippin's er… _friends_, who seem a little distracted at present."

"Gandalf," Aragorn decided he could ignore things no longer, "why is Pippin holding hands with an Uruk? What is going on?"

"I have no idea," Gandalf admitted, "but none of it seems to be life threatening at the moment. Better we ensure Legolas's safety, tend to the other wounded and address this embassy once more." He turned to the hobbit, "Pippin you come here – I need to keep my eye on you lad."

***********************************************************************************************************

Frodo and Sam had climbed a little further up the mountainside. After the close brush with the black clad men they decided to put more distance between themselves and the road. 

"I wanted to watch and see if Pippin would come soon." Frodo sighed. The waiting seemed interminable. "He has to be here soon, Sam."

"Well, maybe the message didn't get through Mr Frodo," Sam winced a little at having to state the unpleasant obvious, "What will we do then?"

"I don't know Sam," Frodo smiled his sad half-smile, "But although I'm trying not to listen, I'm still hearing Pippin. I don't think he knows for sure yet what he has to do. That is, he knows, but our message that we sent through Merry hasn't reached him yet."

"But what of Mr Merry?" Sam had actually had less trouble than Frodo in shutting out the hobbit thoughts that were waiting to seep into both their heads since the mind links, "Do you hear him at all? I haven't heard him again since the message – although…" Sam broke off, a worried frown shadowing across his face, "…I-I feel things are bad with him."

"Yes," Frodo agreed, "I wasn't going to mention it, as I didn't want to worry you dear Sam, but I felt that – like before when I thought he had died. It is as if he has given up because he has nothing left to fight with."

"But at least if you're feeling his thoughts – Mr Merry that is – at least that means he is still alive." Sam did not want Frodo to worry unduly about his two dear cousins. "They'll be all right Mr Frodo, both of them – you'll see."

"I just feel so responsible Sam," Frodo scanned the new horizon discovered now they were higher up, looking and hoping for some sign of Pippin. "If anything should happen to either of them, their poor parents – I'd never forgive myself."

"You can't be responsible for everyone and everything, Mr Frodo," Sam's voice rose a little in his plea, "Don't take it all on your poor shoulders, you've enough to worry about. Why you even nearly got yourself caught saving that wretch Gollum."

"I know Sam," Frodo sat down again, "But that's just it – isn't it? I am responsible for everything – at least that's the way it feels." He slumped his head down onto his knees, "None of this would have happened if I hadn't got this wretched Ring and now poor Merry and Pippin are in danger because of It."

"Well just think if you hadn't got It." Sam sat down next to Frodo, "things might have come to an even worse pass. What if Mr Pippin had got the Ring instead – what then?"

"But that is the very problem," Frodo took the Ring from inside his shirt and rolled it in his fingers, "I can feel It's power growing less and less. It knows that we are near to It's place of origin, where It can be destroyed and now It has found the link to Pippin's Ring, all the time more of It is seeping away Sam." He closed his hand tightly over the golden circle as if that could stop the escape. "It's as if part of me is draining away with it Sam, going to Pippin – always to Pippin."

Sam reached out a hand and clasped his Master's shoulder, his voice worried now and filled with question, "Frodo? Please! Don't!"

"I love Pippin, you know I do." Frodo turned worried, suddenly fear filled eyes up to Sam, "but part of me is starting to hate him – it's the part of me that the Ring owns – It's telling me that Pippin is stealing my soul and that I must destroy him."

"What?" Sam gasped in disbelief, "I can't – that is I could never believe that of you Mr Frodo, not to hurt Mr Pippin – never, you couldn't!"

"I hope so Sam, I keep telling myself not to listen, over and over. But It's there all the time – insidious and insistent." Frodo squeezed his eyes shut as if to take control of himself, "I want Pip to come and yet I'm afraid that he will – afraid for him – for what I might do to him."

"No Mr Frodo, no you couldn't! It would be…" Sam broke off as Frodo's eyes shot open and the ice blue burned into Sam's nervous face. The younger hobbit started to look away, afraid of what he saw there, but Frodo seized his wrist, keeping his attention focussed. 

"Sam you must believe me!" Frodo sounded so desperate now that Sam could do nothing but. "I think I may harm Pippin if he comes, you have to stop me – promise me – please, even if it means harming me – promise!"

"Thass a hard promise to make Mr Frodo, I don't know if I…"

"Promise me Sam, you have to!" Frodo let go and the intensity in his blue eyes softened to large tears, waiting to fall, "please Sam, you have to."

"All right Mr Frodo," Sam sighed and put his hand gently on his Master's clasped hand that held the Ring, "I promise, to the best of my ability I'll not let you harm Mr Pip."

"Even if it means hurting me?" Frodo insisted.

"Even if…" Sam paused, this was more difficult than any other promise he had ever made, "I'll do whatever needs to be done, Mr Frodo – please let that be enough – trust me for that."

Frodo slumped and the tears splashed down onto their joined hands, "I know, I'll trust you Sam – you'll do the right thing – I'm content with that. I'm just very, very afraid of what I might do."

"I know, I know," Sam sympathised. "Don't you worry – it'll be all right. Your Sam will see to it."

***********************************************************************************************************

Legolas could feel very little. He had grown used to not seeing or hearing in the last few days but his senses were such that he was even confident enough to go into battle – too confident it seemed, because now there was no sense of anything. His thoughts groped around in darkness, trying to catch a strand of something, a wisp of light, anything that he could use to pull his being back to Arda.

He listened carefully. Nothing moved or spoke in the blackness, but then… there it was! A tiny whimper, so far away it did not feel real. Legolas waited. A tiny pulse again, like a raindrop falling softly on a broken flower, causing the damaged bloom to weep more. 

_'What is it? Why do you despair?'_

_'gone'_

Legolas felt his heart cry out in pain, tried to touch the hurt little soul that wept with such anguish. 

_'Who is gone? Tell me little one. Don't be afraid any more.'_

No answer but another small heart wrenching sob. Legolas tried to reach him. The little voice was so lost, so deeply sick with fear and grief. He let a filigree tendril of his fea radiate out into the blackness. At first there was no response. Then a small childlike hand clasped his.

_'Merry?'_

_'?'_

_'Merry please –can you tell me where you are?'_

_'no'_

_'Please, Merry, try to tell me, what can you see dear heart.' _Legolas felt a shaking tremor of emotion at his kind words, they were received like breadcrumbs on the ocean to a starving little bird, frantically in need of them but knowing they were only crumbs and would not stave off his imminent death.

_'Merry? Please my love, do not weep. Hold my hand tightly and tell me where you are.'_

_'th-think i go dead'_

_'No Merry, you are not dead, unless I am too and I do not believe I am. Did you have some poppy, little one? I can feel it in you.'_

_'did! othrer orc drink too'_

_'Don't cry Merry. I know it was not your fault and it is making you feel ill – just hold tight and try to breathe deeply.' _Legolas felt hot tears prick his own heart as the sad, bereft hobbit drew a breath and tried to summon every ounce of whatever strength and courage he had left.

_'There's my brave warrior. Now see if you can open your eyes and tell me what you see.'_

_'…is low roof… no! is i undrer table – i go undrer table…'_

_'Are there orcs?'_

_'not… is mens… is eatering foods…' _Legolas smiled to hear the accented hobbit mind speak starting to sound more like Merry.

_'are you inside somewhere?'_

_'am…'_

_'how did you get there?'_

_'?'_

_'Merry my love, try to use words if you can.'_

_'not knowed getted here… too much…' _Merry gave another hiccupping sob.

_'It's all right – don't worry, the poppy was forced on you, you could not help it. How many men are in the room? Can you count them?'_

_'is five'_

_'Are you bound at all?'_

_'is…' _another little sob_, 'is not get hands at i not movering'_

_'Merry, can you describe anything unusual about where you are? Try to look my love.'_

_'is like in littlel room in moririah…'_

_Like the little room in Moria – where Gimli found Balin's tomb?_

_'is… but walls go more rougherer… not softrer…'_

_'The walls are rough and not smooth?'_

_'is…'_

_'Do you think you're in some kind of tunnel or cave? What are… Aiiiieeeeee!'_

Legolas heard his own mental scream as pain reverberated through Merry and then Pippin was suddenly pulled into the mix. So intense and blinding was the agony in all three of them, the elf was not sure who the pain actually belonged to. Then on the edge of the torture they felt Éowyn, dragged in by the intensity. Legolas tried to bite down hard on his lip and discovered he could not, there was a soft resistance there that shielded him from damaging himself. His arm felt as if it had been ripped off at the socket and then, as he summoned up all his willpower to push both the hobbits and Éowyn from him, he realised that Merry was gone. Pippin remained, and Legolas felt him leeching the pain into his own body, crying out even as he did so. Éowyn was hurting too but stroked his brow and soothed him as much as she could.

"I think he's awake!" It was Gimli's voice. "Aragorn have a care!"

"Don't fear, Gimli," Aragorn spoke now, "it is a very bad break, but the arm is at least straight now. It can be firmly splinted and set. It should mend eventually."

"Pippin?" Gandalf cradled the crying hobbit. "Is it still hurting? Legolas is still now, tell me, do you still feel his pain?"

"No We is gone hurted now." Pippin rubbed at his eyes and pulled himself straight, a little surprised to find himself in Gandalf's lap. "It be My Merry. He go hurted with Legolas and Éowyn go too as well."

"Pippin! Pippin, you must not mindspeak with Merry." Gandalf admonished. "It is very dangerous, for both of you and for Frodo."

"We not tried go talk in We heads you know, Gandalf," Pippin pointed out indignantly, slipping away from the wizard as he did so, to go and caress Legolas's brow. "It be We Legolas, he pulleded We in when Strider get breaked he arms."

"I'm so sorry Pippin," Aragorn looked up from his work of bandaging the elf as he relinquished the job to a healer. "There was no other way to do it."

"It not be pain at We so much." Pippin looked reproachfully at Gandalf, "It be My Merry… My Merry more too hurt and… and think dead soon… he think that!"

"Pippin…" Gandalf started but stopped again with a shake of his head. He knew what Pippin would say and Pippin knew his answer, there was no point in having the conversation again. "You must come now, we have to go for our embassy with the Mouth of Sauron. I want you by me at all times. And before you ask, no you may not bring your orc!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"Éowyn!" Faramir caught her as she faltered, first clutching his sleeve and then fainting into his arms. "Dysgwr, come, see what is wrong, the Lady Éowyn is ill!"

Dysgwr, glad to at last have both feet on solid ground and concentrating on the pleasure of not being on a horse, looked up and saw Captain Faramir scoop the Lady up as she swooned. He quickly moved to help the young man lay her down upon the bedroll indicated by a worried Éomer inside his tent. "Perhaps you have made too much haste," Éomer felt his sister's hands and touched a hand to her brow. "She is feverish and is in pain."

"It is not haste that makes the Lady swoon," Dysgwr was on his own ground now, dealing with illness and malady. He knelt to take Éowyn's hand from her brother and looked carefully into her face, noticing her tightly clenched fists and fast breathing. "I have seen this affliction before in the halflings, when they were doing their strange distance talking."

"Yes I remember Éowyn looking like this before," Faramir agreed meeting Éomer's anxious look with one of his own, "but never in so much pain before."

"Ahh!" Éowyn's eyes shot open and she looked frantically around at those who were beside her, taking a moment to catch her breath. 

"Éowyn! What is it that ails you?" Éomer had not been expecting to see his sister on the battlefield. "You should be in Minas Tirith, why have you come to war again? Captain Faramir," he turned abruptly to the young man as he was not getting any answers from Éowyn. "Why did you bring her here? What has happened? Is it something to do with young Meriadoc?"

"Yes," Faramir was taken aback at the question. "How do you know?"

"We believe, that is," Éomer quickly corrected himself as he was not completely convinced, "Peregrin believes he has seen him – as a hostage of the Envoy to Sauron."

"At least that means he is alive!" Dysgwr looked at Drâmym and Ŭnomer, standing one either side of the entrance to the tent as if guarding it. "That's good – isn't it?"

Éowyn focussed on her surroundings, slightly surprised to suddenly find her brother at her side. "It was Legolas, he's been hurt, but…" Éowyn tried to analyse what had happened. "…someone was doing something very bad to him… his arm? Merry and Pippin were both drawn to the pain, we all felt it."

"Yes – that was Lord Aragorn," Éomer explained, "Legolas was badly hurt and he was resetting his arm. Gandalf had thought that Peregrin might feel it, but he did not mention that you, Éowyn, would suffer as well."

"So your link with the elf, I mean Legolas, is still quite strong?" Faramir tried not to sound too petulant about this, but realised he had failed when he drew a quizzical look from Éomer.

"I think it is getting stronger," Éowyn chose to ignore Faramir's obvious little flash of jealousy. "But it's true, Éomer, Pippin is right – Merry is alive! I felt him in the link, just for a moment, but he was definitely there." 

***********************************************************************************************************

At the sudden scream, Majdi dragged the hobbit by the leg from under the table where it had lain throughout the meal. Without waiting for orders from his Master, the man grabbed the semi-conscious halfling by the scruff and shook it as he pulled it across the room, snarling threats and promising dire consequences if it made any more noise. 

The halfling did not struggle as its arms were bound tightly behind its back, but it gave a heaving sob of agony and despair. Majdi drew back his arm and backhanded the little creature across the face, knocking it to the ground. The three other servants watching laughed as the halfling tried to scrabble away from the kick that it obviously knew was coming. 

Majdi's boot was almost in contact with the little creature's midriff when suddenly something whistled through the air and wrapped around the man's ankle, pulling him off balance and tipping him to the ground where he landed with a resounding whomp! His three fellow servants laughed even louder. 

"Why you little piece of…!" Majdi picked himself up and advanced upon the hobbit who was now trying to back away, hitching along on his backside and uttering little squeaks of panic. "Come here!" The man easily caught him up and, reaching down, grabbed a handful of curls and tugged. Instead of lifting it up as intended, a length of cord, that seemed to come from under the mithril corslet, whipped around the man's wrist and pulled tight, overbalancing him once more. 

As he fell, his companions' laughter was suddenly halted as their Master's voice cut through their mirth. "Stop you fool." The tone was flat and filled with ominous threat, "Deal with it or I shall – and remember it needs to be alive for now."

Majdi looked back at his Master and again at the terrified creature before him, its eyes now wide with fear, breathing fast and pressing itself into the wall as if it would melt into the stone. He saw the mithril coat gleaming in the dim light and realised that the luminescence was not coming from the true silver, but from the grey coloured cord beneath. That was what snapped at him every time he brutalised this little thing. What in Sauron's name was it? 

But Majdi's immediate problem was keeping control of this creature before he incurred his Master's wrath and brute force was obviously not going to work. "Come here hobbit – come on…" Majdi held out a hand and tried a watery smile, "I won't hurt you, now keep still." He managed to catch hold of its upper arm and remembered, just in time, not to drag it, but gently helped it up to its feet. He could feel it trembling and he could also hear a soft hum that seemed to emanate from the creature's body! Then he realised it was that damnable rope! Obviously some kind of elven magic. 

But even as Majdi cursed it, a wave of fear washed over him, a deeper fear than he had ever felt from his Master. He looked down at the pathetic little creature and realised that it had leaned into his grasp, half burying its face into his robe as if trying to take sanctuary with him, its own tormentor. The man's fear was quickly replaced with overwhelming guilt. This was a frantic little being, almost a child, that had committed no crime and posed no threat that he could see, it was merely a hostage. But it obviously was imbued with some kind of Grace, perhaps from a power higher than Sauron Himself – something elven certainly. Maybe this was his test – what should he do? It might be his one chance to do something less than evil, maybe at the cost of his own life, but both he and his Master already held that cheaply.

Majdi took a knife from his belt and surreptitiously he cut through the bonds on the little one's arms. Then, bending to the frightened creature's level, he lifted it carefully up and onto his shoulder, wrapping his cloak around it. "It's all right little thing," he whispered into the oddly pointed ear, "I'll do my best to take care of you. You keep quiet and stay with me."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Legolas? Are you awake my friend?" Gimli had kept a careful vigil over the elf ever since he had been injured and had even held his comrade still as Aragorn performed painful but necessary field surgery on him. The terrible wrenching of his broken arm had ripped an agonised scream, not only from the patient, but also from young Peregrin, sitting in Gandalf's lap and half waiting for it to happen.

Legolas had lain still as the arm was splinted into its new position, but Gimli thought he was now conscious. He also knew that his friend would be anxious for news. "The young hobbit is all right now," Gimli informed him, knowing that would be his first concern. "He has gone to the embassy with the Mouth of Sauron." 

Legolas's uninjured hand moved to find Gimli's and squeezed it tightly. Then he curled his fingers around and put them in Gimli's palm. 

"Oh yes!" Gimli knew this was Legolas's sign for a query and that he needed to know more. "Well a lot has happened. Just after the troll fell on you, a truce was called and the Mouth of Sauron summoned the leaders to take embassy with him in one hour – Gandalf, Aragorn, Éomer, Imrahil and the other Captains have gone to treat with him now. Oh and young Peregrin went too as Gandalf won't let him out of his sight." Gimli paused for breath. "What else? Oh yes, Pippin's orcs have turned up! Yes I know! We were all, well I can't describe how we were. I mean here's this halfpint halfling and he's bossing around the biggest, ugliest Uruk-hai you ever saw. Got him to get his orc soldiers to make the bloody troll get off you. Bless my beard, but I never saw such a thing. 

Legolas, in spite of the throbbing pain that wracked his whole body and the appalling agony in his broken and splinted arm, actually smiled at the thought. 

"Right now, all the orc's battalion are officially 'prisoners of war' since they didn't retreat with the others, about a hundred of them all told, including an injured mountain troll." Gimli sighed and shook his head, "I was all for finishing it off, but the young hobbit wouldn't hear of it, said **_'He go be We Pippin's troll!'_** you know the way he does just lately, getting very territorial."

This brought another half smile to Legolas's lips, followed by a shudder of pain. Gimli took his hand again. "Try to rest now, you are badly injured and will need a lot of caring for." Legolas furrowed his brow at this. "Don't fret yourself," Gimli assured him, "It'll be me overseeing the caring, I'll not leave you to the mercies of these healers." 

Legolas curled his fingers in query again. "Oh yes, there was more. Éowyn and Faramir and that healer from Minas Tirith, the one that took charge of young Meriadoc, they arrived here all in a frantic hurry to talk to Gandalf. But the Lady was taken ill apparently and the Captains had to leave for the embassy and now they are waiting for them to return. I don't know what the message was, they are waiting in Aragorn's tent, but I did not want to leave you. I daresay we'll find out in good time."

Legolas clutched at Gimli's hand again. He wanted to tell someone about Merry, that he was still alive and to let them know the description of the room he was in, but he could not hold the thought. The elf tried to draw a breath that would summon the strength to make contact with Éowyn or Pippin or even Gandalf, but the pain was too much, even for him and gradually the black curtain of sleep forced its way down across his mind. The last fleeting thought that scurried fretfully through his head was that he needed to talk to Pippin, just for a moment – to tell him about the room, but he could not find the halfling – his thoughts were jumbled and he was obeying Gandalf by refusing to mind talk. 

Just for a fleeting second he felt Merry again, his friend was frightened and felt so very alone. Legolas tried to reach out and touch him once more, but the blackness won and the elf sank back into oblivion.

***********************************************************************************************************

The sudden movement shocked Merry back to the waking world even as the pain from Legolas still throbbed through his arm and into his weak, abused body. He was being pulled by the leg and shouted at to be quiet. He must have cried out with the pain – Legolas's or his own – he couldn't tell which.

Merry had no immediate recollection of where he was or what was happening to him. It was as though all coherent thought had long since fled and he began to wonder if he were even awake. The vicious blow to his face that knocked him across the room dispelled the idea that none of this was real, especially as he tried to catch his fall but found that his arms were too tightly bound to move and he fell with painful force to the stones. Frantically trying to avoid the next blow, which he instinctively knew would follow, Merry pushed himself backwards until he reached the wall and there was no where else to go.

He remembered then, a vague recollection of something trying to eat him, like a large cat might, picking him up and throwing him in the air. He had been pulled out of the cage and they had tried to take the elven rope off him, so that the dragon could eat him. That must be what was happening as he did not remember anything else. Merry's mind slammed down again, as he realised he was probably about to be thrown back to the snapping jaws and tearing claws once more, only this time without the protection of the elven rope.

The next blow did not land, and then Merry heard a soft humming noise and felt a warmth trying to sooth his body, it made him want to weep. He tried not to be afraid, but he felt so vulnerable and he hurt so much, he had started to wish for death, for this nightmare to finish and let him rest in peace. But the delicate noise and the enfolding warm rope bandage around his chest, was like a mother's touch in a fevered dream, telling him that she would keep him safe and to be brave. 

A large hand took hold of his arm and lifted him up onto his feet. Was this someone who had come to save him? Merry, desperate for a kind touch, leaned into the grip and buried his face into the black robe of the man, still half expecting a curse or another blow. But instead he saw the glint of a blade. 

This then was maybe his end. The man would cut his throat and then throw him to the dragon. But instead Merry felt his arms loosened from the cruel bonds and was then gently lifted up. The man whispered some words into his ear, they sounded kind and gentle, although Merry could not understand what was said, the language was garbled and foreign. But it was enough. 

Merry's damaged right arm was still too numb for movement, but he grasped at the man's cloak with his left hand and clung on in desperation. He heard other voices in the room and then they were moving outside and he was being carried with them and then placed upon a horse in front of his protector.

The ride was not a long one and Merry was too glazed to take in much of the surroundings. He was vaguely aware that there were many orcs around, he could hear them and smell them, but he kept his head buried in the cloak that was thrown around him.

There were voices and suddenly the hobbit realised he could understand what was being said. He remember when he and Pippin had been kidnapped before by the Uruk-hai that they spoke in the Common Tongue as they did not all have the same language as each other. This must be the case here.

"Give it to the Captain in charge" A cruel and cold voice.

"Master, I can take care of the halfling better." That was the man who held him.

The cold voice replied, "Fool! Even the orcs cannot get this wrong. They have their instructions – repeat them Captain."

An orc voice, "We're to tie the halfling securely about the arms, fix one end of the rope to the bridge over the open gate. Then at your signal Master, we kick it off."

"And be sure not to kill it yet." The cruel voice again.

Merry felt the kind hands lift him off the horse and he was passed down into rough fists once more. They jostled him to the ground and vicious cords dragged his arms back again. "Have a care!" The man had spoken suddenly and had sounded anxious.

Merry looked back up at his protector, a frantic plea in his eyes, "D-don't l-leave…" He was cut short as a gag was forced into his mouth and the elven cloak was pulled down over his face 

"I need you to attend me, now heed your duty." The cruel voice moved away as it spoke and Merry did not see his protector leave, but he knew that he had.

He plunged back into the nightmare. Rough hands picked him up and he was thrown over a broad armour clad shoulder. The orc carrying him began to climb, higher and higher they went until Merry, still able to see vaguely through the light elven cloth, could see out across the scarred and war torn battlefield. Below him, about 200 dizzying feet down, Merry could see a small group of figures on horses. One of them was clad all in white and rode a white horse. Merry's heart leapt as he realised it was Gandalf and when he saw a small figure perched before the wizard, he knew that it must be Pippin but, cruelly, he could not make out his little cousin's features clearly. It would have been something, just to see Pippin's sweet face one last time before he died.

His mind panicked then! What was going to happen? Were they going to hang him? Put him to death right here in front of his dear Pippin!

Merry tried to struggle, especially as a rope was looped through his arms and pulled up tightly. He kicked out frantically, but this only caused laughter from his captors. His shoulders were grabbed and he was held tightly, his head turned forcibly towards the great drop, so he could also see the group below. He was pushed closer to the edge and leaned out over the brink so that he could appreciate the terrifying drop. Below he saw a figure, draped all in black, lift his arm. A boot kicked his furry feet from under him and the gnarled hands pushed at the same moment. He hurtled through the air, eyes closed and, in spite of the gag, teeth biting into his lip.

There was a sudden impact against his chest, pulling the breath from his body and he stopped. With trepidation, Merry opened his eyes to see what had happened. It was not a good sight. He was dangling in space, at least 175 feet from the ground, a fall that would certainly kill him. He gave a whimper and closed his eyes again, recalling that even as he fell he had heard a small, terrified voice cry out. That was perhaps the worst part of all. It was not the way he had dreamed their next meeting would be. It was Pippin who had screamed, "Meeerrrryy!"

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N: The Golden Mushroom Awards! I'm flabbergasted! Thanks to kind, voting readers, Recaptured got three places. It came first in The Boil Vey Award for The Most Unusual Symptom. Runner Up for the Best Hobbit Wino (Merry's performance in Chapter 19 of part 2) and another First for Best Abuse of a Controlled Substance. This last I believe was greatly deserved, as I doubt any other writer has been as callous and despicable in their appalling abuse of a narcotic as I have with Pippin and his poppy.

I would like to take the opportunity here to once again thank the organisers of the Golden Mushrooms who did a splendid job by developing humorous awards that allow us to laugh at ourselves rather than to proclaim our "brilliance" (ahem). 

And especially thanks to all who voted – it was great fun and I'm delighted to have been noticed in this way, especially in such esteemed company as the other nominated writers.

BTW: Kookaburra and I also got a first for Icicle in Moria's Revenge – a story that will be updated soon – promise!

Before we go on to the Q&A here is a quick note from Marigold:

Hi Marigold here, I have a story challenge currently running on my LJ and my Recommendations Page. For all you aspiring and established writers out there, the challenge is to write a story about hobbits. That's it – not much of a challenge – but there are conditions. It must be new and previously unpublished and should remain so until after the close of the challenge on 9th February. All stories entered will be published on my Recommendations Page on 6th February. Oh and stories must be complete and can be any rating – just state what it is. Finished stories should be sent to my email: Marigoldcotton@aol.com. Have fun, M.

ssi3 Thomas: I have a question: are you reading the StupidRing parody?  
Llinos: No – should I be?  
ssi3 Thomas: Finally! something almost truly life-threating happens to Legolas, I have been waiting for that.  
Llinos: I know – and just for you – I even included some elvish angst this time.

lindelea: Will have to stumble away, kicking at stones, and re-read "High King's Falcon" for solace.  
Llinos: An excellent choice – be sure to check Legolas's song :-) including the two extra alternate chapters which can be found at the end of the story and the extra alternate verses to the song! 

Wynded: I absolutely adored "fool of an elf" and how Gandalf said it must be Pippin's influence,  
Llinos: Actually it was Marigold's influence – in fact it was totally her line! 

Eldarin Queen: when are the rings going to be destroyed?  
Llinos: Patience, My precious, patience! 

NekoHitori: had me on the edge of the computer chair, you did!  
Llinos: Well hopefully, like Merry, you won't fall off.

Xena: Also nice to see that Groll dressed up for his appearance in battle  
Llinos: Marigold insisted – she likes him to look his best.

Xena: Pippin reunited with Smagnu!  
Llinos: And there will be more to come.

Pip4: That was funny how Gimli thought Pippin meant he wanted to kill the orc when he said it was his orc.  
Llinos: Gimli has enough trouble understanding Pip at the best of times.

Vensre: Except make icons in tribute.  
Llinos: Very nice too – thank you very much! I love to see new readers to this story! Not that I don't adore all the old readers too – you understand! Your icons are being wrestled onto my LJ even as we speak. (A little technologically challenged here).

Sakura123: Stupid Orcs and Uruk Hai. Go Gimli! Kick ass!!  
Llinos: Hey – don't let Pippin catch you saying that about We Smagnude!

star's dreams: Wonder how everyone else feels about Pip's orc. Because he the coolest.  
Llinos: Next chapter – promsis!

Freakish Lemon: Oh man...Smagnu and Pip reunited...I can't handle it. You have to write the next part REALLY quickly so I don't explode, okay?  
Llinos: So that's really the next chapter – where Smag shows up again. I'll be quick as I can.

Adrienne D: why are there only seven Nazgûl?  
Llinos: Because Merry and Éowyn killed the Witch King of Angmar (No.1) and Faramir and Éowyn just saw off Khamul the Shadow of the East in chapter 122 – that was the one whose fell beast made off with Merry.

Adrienne D: But, you have Neko to thank for me reviewing today  
Llinos: Thank you Neko (curtseys low in appreciation) you are most kind.

Hai Took: Some fast thinking on Pippin's part to put a picture of himself where Smagnu was!  
Llinos: Yeah and it took some doing! I mean have you **_seen_** Smag? He's no oil painting.

meatball: I was jus kiddin' 'bout the whole intestine thing.  
Llinos: Just as well as I'm a vegetarian – apparently we don't make good skipping ropes!

Sam: But the best was the reunion! That totally made my day! Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
Llinos: So you liked it then?

curly29: wait just a moment was that the Uruk who merry and pippin met in the tower or am i going mad.  
Llinos: Well of course – who else?

curly29: oh and another question WHERE IS TOURTURE, RAPE ,BLOOD.  
Llinos: Mostly in Moria's Revenge if I'm not mistaken.

Tash: Btw, Pip would defend good ol' Naggie in the same way! (I know, an inside reference, but I just couldn't resist!)*  
Llinos: Yes he would! Nagash is Smagnu's alter ego and you can read about his adventures in the on-going role play game in Broken World. It is NC-17 so I won't put the link, but if you can't find it and you are of age, let me know. Incidentally, it's not PWP there's an exciting storyline too. I play Merry and Nagash, Tasha plays Pippin, Kookaburra plays Sam and now Marigold is playing Saradoc.

QTPie: and oh my gosh- legolas is squished!!  
Llinos: Well it was a toss up between him and Grutfley and Leggie lost, but Groll was teetering in both directions.  
QTPie: i suppose you think you've done too much to poor pip at the moment to crush him too  
Llinos: And he still has far too much to do to go and get squished right now.

Pearl Took: I really like the Gimli and Legolas scene  
Llinos: Yes – Gimli can be so sweet when he tries.

redtoes: Many questions…  
Llinos: Sorry – Thanks – turquoise woad? That's just for sea dwelling orcs – Yes it has – could be – no – in this chapter – no – run away – further up – no – yes – okay.

pippin-the-thain: EVIL HORRIBLE NASTY CRUEL EVIL EVIL EVIL writer! But nice Llinos will write more wont she...WONT SHE?!?!?!! do or fear my wrath!  
Llinos: All those things. (laughs and quakes with fear)

Mistoffelees: …about Peter Jackson cheating us "Pip and the Troll" WASN'T THERE! I was disappointed last year, when I was looking forward to the Palantír and there WASN'T ONE!  
Llinos: No but at least you got a palantír this time – that must count for something!

pipwise brandygin: Whew ... I've caught up with you. I found this last week  
Llinos: Welcome! Welcome!  
pipwise brandygin: does it ever have to end?  
Llinos: One day – I mean – I might die, get squished by a troll or get a job.  
pipwise brandygin: any chance he'll get squished by anything later?  
Llinos: He's going to be very busy – but we'll see.  
pipwise brandygin: Will he ever get any respect from Gandalf and Aragorn?  
Llinos: Oh he demands it all the time – whether or not he gets it is another matter. I don't think the speech helps really. 

aelfgifu: Evil1Mery made a speech for the mushroom too! Maybe if he gets better, he can come work with you!  
Llinos: Congrats on your win too Emma. Merry would have to get a **_lot_** better! *grins* 

BTW If anyone missed the Golden Mushroom Awards all the acceptance speeches are there to see now the link is on my author page. Emma wrote a really nice poem.

Chapter 125 will be with you soon… I hope!  
Heddwch  
Llinos


	33. Talk and Orc Swqûk

Talk and Orc Swqûk   
Recaptured – Chapter 125

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold  
  
Pippin was rigid with fear. Gandalf's arm went tightly round him, warning him to be still, and trying to offer a little comfort at the same time, although, after his initial scream, the hobbit was too traumatised to make further sound, and sat rigidly on Shadowfax clinging to the wizard's forearm.

The Mouth of Sauron sat before them on a horse as high and mighty as Shadowfax, but with none of the nobility owned by the Lord of Mearas. The only relief to the black robes and steeds of the delegation of the Dark Lord was the standard of white they carried to match the one flown from the top of the Black Gate. "This flag of truce is the last you will see Wizard!" The Mouth spat the words at them, "Use it well, for you shall have no further chance to save your people."

"You speak of a war already won." Gandalf returned, "Why then do you have need for respite, unless your Master wavers." The Mouth sneered and went to speak again, but Gandalf was not yet finished. "And why do you display a hostage before us? This is not in the spirit or custom of a truce!"

"Not a hostage," The foul man retorted, "That is a spoil of war and he will be executed should you refuse the truce, but to show my good will, should you honour this armistice, I will give him to you."

"Give him?" Gandalf snapped back, "Give him? What, in the same way you returned the hostages to Minas Tirith? In pieces? I expect nothing from you – you have no honour and I trust you not!"

"Choose not to take your friend back," The Mouth shrugged his cloak-shrouded shoulders, "The truce I offer is the same, noon-day to noon-morrow. Should you not retrieve your spy, the fighting will commence as we cut the rope that holds him up. The choice is yours wizard."

"Very well," Gandalf was not certain where the trick was at the moment, he was certain there was knavery involved, but would play along until he could discern the trap. "Give us back our friend in one piece and we will accept your truce of 24 hours."

"We shall lower the Shire rat down to you wizard – but only to you." The Mouthpiece of Sauron allowed a small sardonic smile to creep about his lips. "You must come to the Gate alone and you may collect him unharmed, that is to say, harmed no more than he is already."

Aragorn and Éomer both reached for their swords, hands on the hilts simultaneously, but Gandalf lifted a warning hand to stay their fury. "And if I decline?" Gandalf still could see no obvious advantage to their enemies from the proposal. "What then?"

"Gandalf!" Pippin found his voice again, horrified at the very idea that the wizard would leave Merry dangling from the Black Gate for a second longer. "We go get he!"

"It is a small matter," The vile man returned, "He carries nothing of worth – aught that he had was removed and returned to its true master – what remains is but a carcass. You may have it – the terms of the truce remain, noon-day to noon-morrow – you may collect the brat ere the term is done. He will not survive after that, unless you reach your wits by then and agree to the Lord's terms."

"I should cut this brigand's throat now," Éomer drew his sword, causing the Mouth's servants to likewise reach for their weapons. "Then ride forth and cut down the Esquire of the King – it is an unseemly way for him to be treated."

"Peace my Lord Éomer." Gandalf cautioned, "Re-sheath your sword, we are, no matter how dastardly our opponent, under truce. We shall determine the fate of the little one in due course." Gandalf turned back to the Mouth of Sauron. "Betwixt times, we accept the truce, although not necessarily the terms. This embassy is ended."

Giving no further chance for discussion Gandalf wheeled around on Shadowfax and rode swiftly away, allowing the others of his group no choice but to follow him.

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"Milady Éowyn?" Drâmym stood awkwardly at the entrance to the tent. "They are seated now for the Council, they need your presence there. Lord Faramir would prefer if you were to deliver the message from the halfling."

"I shall attend soon." Éowyn turned back to Legolas and stroked his brow once more. "I do not know if you can hear me dear Legolas, I think not, for I feel your mind is asleep, but if there is any strength or fortitude I can give you that will help you to recover, then it is yours."

"You can tell that he sleeps through this mind link I take it." Gimli looked at the maiden with a mixture of awe and paternalism. "I hope you know what you're getting into with this mind talking business, it doesn't seem to have done young Pippin much good."

Éowyn smiled, "I do not think the little skill I have with talking to Legolas in his mind will affect me adversely." She accepted Gimli's proffered hand to rise to her feet. "Also the little one was without speech for a long time – that was not in his favour."

"But is that what the hobbits sound like," Gimli had never really quite understood why Pippin spoke in such a muddled way, "The way Pippin speaks out loud – is that how they sound in your head?"

"Yes – well a little," Éowyn agreed, "Although Pippin's speech has become slightly more bizarre it would seem. Merry…" Éowyn paused as she spoke her comrade's name as the merest though of him and his fate brought her pain, "…Merry tends to be more coherent. I, on the other hand speak quite differently to the hobbits, although not in the same way that Legolas does – it's very confusing."

"Milady?" Drâmym had been replaced by an anxious Faramir, "They are waiting for us."

"I am ready," Éowyn turned to Gimli, "what of you Master Dwarf, are you to come to this Council?"

"Aye, well I suppose I should," He turned to look back at Legolas, who was breathing regularly, but was deathly pale and deeply unconscious. "I don't suppose they need advice from me on these matters, besides," He looked down and muttered as if slightly embarrassed, "I did nae want to leave the elf alone."

"We can send for you if necessary," Éowyn reassured him. "It is well that Legolas has such a good friend to watch over him."

***********************************************************************************************************

The Council had not properly begun even when Éowyn and Faramir arrived. Gandalf was still trying to console Pippin. "Nothing has yet been decided. Stop getting agitated and calm down, we have to look at the whole situation and decide what to do for the best."

"Only is one thing We got do" We got get My Merry!" Pippin found it very difficult to be objective when his precious cousin was dangling 175 feet above the Black Gate and in danger of being dropped to his death at any moment.

"Gandalf is right, Pippin," Aragorn interceded. "There is more to their offer than what it seems, they would not offer Merry back for no reason."

"But My Merry is…"

"Pippin, wait!" Gandalf stood in the centre of the group of Captains and Kings, Pippin petulantly at his side, looking up anxiously for a chance to put his case for a daring rescue.

There was no time for them to be seated, too urgent was the matter and too sparse their resources for such things. Faramir gallantly spread his cloak across a rock and Éowyn graciously accepted the makeshift chair. She felt a little out of place to be the only one seated, but it would have seemed churlish to refuse. Pippin sidled over to her with a half smile, hoping for early news of why she had come. He knew for certain that she must have news of Merry and could perhaps explain why he was where he was now. "Éow?" Pippin could never get her name quite right, "Lady, We meaned to sayed, how do it go happened at My Merry? You go come say at We here?"

While Éowyn was still trying to unravel Pippin's question, or if indeed it even was one, Gandalf's sharp ears and eyes had spotted the hobbit's anxious attempt to gain early intelligence. "Pippin, we all need to hear that," the Wizard moved over to his small charge and placed a hand on his shoulder, "don't move too far away from me." Gandalf spoke softly so others could not hear him. He did not want to belittle Pippin, but they were in the open and the hobbit was still very vulnerable. 

"Please Lady Éowyn," Aragorn made a small bow to her, "will you begin with your urgent news?"

"It is not news, so much as a message," Éowyn began looking from Faramir to Dysgwr and the two knights of Rohan, "It was truly Merry's message, but… but something ill befell him on the way here."

"I think we guessed that he had been captured." Gandalf said with a kindly timbre, he could tell the messengers were all distressed at the prospect of having to relate what had actually happened. "At least, we know that he is now a prisoner of the forces of Mordor."

"Then he lives at least!" Faramir's face lit up as he spoke for them all. "Until this moment we had assumed that Merry must be dead, that he would be eaten by the foul dragon that stole him, or at best dispatched swiftly by its keepers."

"But the prospect is not good for him." Gandalf shook his head. "At present he is suspended from the Black Gate with a threat of death should I not claim him."

"Then why do you not do so?" Éowyn's eyes came alive with anger and hope. "Why are we sitting – standing…" She rose from her seat to more easily look the wizard in the eye, although still she must look up. "Why are we standing here? We must go and get him!" 

"Is what We keeped sayering!" Pippin insisted. Drâmym and Ŭnomer both made as if to leave at once and even Dysgwr looked as if he might go with them.

"Because," Gandalf held up a hand to stay their moves, "we do not yet know why they would make such an offer. Nor do we know how Merry fell into their hands." He paused with a slight sigh, "And you have yet to deliver Merry's message."

"Yes, Mithrandir," Faramir gave a slight bow of apology, "If the Lady will allow…"

Éowyn nodded in agreement…

"I shall tell all, with speed."

***********************************************************************************************************

"Wass they gonna do wiv us Captain?" Sniggin was tentative in his questioning. He could see that Smagnu looked somewhat uncertain himself as he came back from talking to the Gondorian Captain in charge. "Is they gonna kilted us?"

"Not right now," Smagnu climbed up on the rock next to Grutfley and plonked his ample backside down next to his partner's. "Right, listen good you lot." He was about to curse them to silence again until he realised his little orcs were scarcely breathing, let alone talking. He glanced around the natural hollow that ran into the side of the cliff-face, where he had been ordered to assemble his woad covered soldiers. About a hundred blue faces turned expectantly up to him, waiting to learn their fate. "What they've said is we're prisoners of war. They's gonna come round and collect up all our weapons an' yer'd best hand in everything – got that? It ain't like they's gonna kill us or nothing at the moment, just so long as we don't do nothing to try and fight or run away." Smagnu paused for breath and looked around at the blue faces. They were nodding and looking quite pleased with the outcome. "Any questions then? Yeah – you Bloggin?"

"What about me ladle Cap'n? Is that a weapon?"

Smagnu looked at Grutfley with a shrug. "Did yer 'it anyone wiv it?" Grutfley asked logically.

"No Sarge," Bloggin examined the utensil in his hand thoughtfully, "I just stirred me stew an' I gets Groll ter go where I wants wiv it."

"Well I suppose it's a kinda weapon then." Grutfley pondered this for a moment longer. "Come to think of it, your stew is something of a lethal weapon in its own right."

"Yes Sarge," Bloggin surprisingly agreed, "But I ain't got none o' that left so's I can hand it in no-how."

"Well, no." Smagnu agreed, "you hold on to yer ladle Blog, you don't need to tell anyone what it's fer." He looked round again, "Anything else? No well, just behave yerselves an' we'll be right enough."

Smagnu turned to Grutfley and grunted a bit, "Fug know how we's gonna feed 'em all, there don't seem nothing about here and I don't suppose these men are gonna spare us nothing. We'll probably just starve to…" Suddenly he looked up hearing an odd noise from the little orcs. They were usually quiet and pretty cowed around bigger types.

Bloggin was waving his ladle and Groll was keeping time by beating on his great chest, his wound almost sealed up with Sniggin and Bloggin's healing skills. They were chanting the same thing over and over, starting low and rising to a great swell of appreciation. 

"Smagnu Swqûk! Smagnu Swqûk! Smagnu Swqûk! Smagnu Swqûk! Smagnu Swqûk! 

***********************************************************************************************************

"It just go pick My Merry ups and taked he aways?" Pippin's mouth would not close even after he had finished speaking, "wha- it not make… why you not… We not want hear more… it too… when he goed away at you? What you make do at he?"

"It was so sudden," Faramir already felt drained from relating the story of Merry's abduction, "I do blame myself as the Nazgûl was occupying all my attention, I neglected to keep an eye for the fell beast." He dropped to his knee before Pippin so that he could be at his eye level and took his hand in his, "I am so sorry Pippin, especially to you who has saved my life twice over, this is poor repayment of my debt."

"Drâmym and Ŭnomer made a valiant effort to capture the beast," Dysgwr wrung his hands, in anguish at the memory, "I thought they had him, but the creature just pulled the rope away from them."

"Rope?" Gandalf queried, "You got a rope on the beast?"

"It was the halfling's own rope," Dysgwr explained. "The one that was about him when you brought him to the houses of healing."

"We magnic rope!" Pippin's eyes actually lit up a little with hope at this news. "It go looked after My Merry – We knows it do."

"Let us hope so Pippin, but there is only so much a rope can do." Gandalf looked towards Aragorn and Éomer, "We have to decide what to do for the best."

"It is clear that if you go to reclaim Merry," Éomer said, "That it is a device to lure you into the Black Gate, into some evil trap."

"Particularly as you must go alone," Prince Imrahil added, "Why alone? They must fear you greatly and this is a way to draw you out Mithrandir."

"But…" Pippin was silenced by Gandalf's warning hand before he could interrupt.

"I am not sure that is the reason." Gandalf pointed towards the Gate. "You are forgetting to question why they offered a truce of a day and night in the first place."

"Surely it is so that they can recoup, to bury their dead and collect the wounded." Dysgwr felt foolish almost as soon as the words had left his lips. "No, of course, that is not their way, is it?"

"Indeed not, Master Healer." Faramir smiled at his companion. "Orcs do not pause for such niceties."

"It is a salient point Gandalf," Aragorn too had considered the matter carefully, "There are only two things that stands between Sauron and His complete victory now, our small army, which doubtless He does not fear, and His possession of the Ring. The Ring is what He desires the most."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed, "I am but one opponent, but at present He believes that Pippin has the Ring. The Envoy that He sent, this Mouth of Sauron, has now confirmed it with his own eyes. He saw the halfling and that I keep him near, which has confirmed his assumption that Pippin is the Ringbearer."

"So this offer to deliver the halfling, is not so much a ruse to lure you in Mithrandir," Imrahil asked, "but to a device to draw you away from the other halfling – the Ringbearer you say? This one has the One Ring? Sauron's Ring?"

Gandalf turned to look directly into the steady gaze of the Prince of Dol Amroth, "I don't know." It was not the answer the man had been expecting. "Pippin does indeed bear a Ring, but it was a decoy. However, something unexpected has occurred and we believe It has gained some power of its own – certainly enough to make Sauron believe It is the One Ring." Gandalf added quietly, "Pippin too believes it is so."

"So will you leave Merry where he is?" Dysgwr asked. "If that is so, then I shall go myself to save him."

"Brave words Master Healer, but I fear he would be dead before you could reach him." Gandalf pointed out. "The Envoy made that quite clear."

"But surely it is better than doing nothing?" Drâmym said angrily. He knew it was not his place to speak in this company, but it was more than he could stand.

"There is nothing we can do." Gandalf said sadly, "I cannot go to rescue Merry with any other in my company, and I dare not to leave Pippin alone, he will be seized by the Nazgûl as soon as I do."

"We can protect Pippin," Aragorn put in unexpectedly, "It would be demoralising for the whole army to see that little one put to death before them. If we cannot protect the smallest, then what are we fighting for?" He caught Pippin's eye. "This is not just for the love we bear Merry, you understand, but that I must admit is a part of it – as it should be."

"None of this is relevant." Éowyn had been silent throughout this discussion, listening carefully to the arguments back and forth. "Don't you see?" She turned to Faramir and the two Riders of Rohan. "Gandalf must leave Pippin – or rather Pippin must leave Gandalf."

The wizard turned to her, realisation dawning on his face before she could deliver the message that they had brought – the reason this dire circumstance occurred in the first place was for Merry to tell Pippin something important. "Pippin has to go where you cannot protect him – where none of us can. Frodo sent the message through Samwise to Merry. Pippin has to destroy his Ring – he has to go to Mount Doom."

There was silence among the group as the enormity of the message sank it. Gandalf had hoped that the Ring about Pippin's neck would lose all power once Frodo's Ring was destroyed – but sadly it seemed Pippin had been right all along.

The wizard was suddenly aware of Pippin tugging on his robe, he looked down at the earnest face, "See Gandalf!" Pippin announced a little too triumphantly, "It what We sayed!"

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The Mouth of Sauron was a mere mortal, but nevertheless an ambitious mortal. Already he saw his path clearly. He would replace the defeated wizard Saruman at Isengard, once reparations had been made by the conquered peoples of Middle Earth. Nothing drove him save for ambition for power. Wealth he craved, but only for the power it brought with it. Piety and mercy were qualities he understood and scorned for their lack of worth. No power was ever gained by those who exhibited these traits. 

He chose those close to him with care. No one ever sought the post, his cruelty was legendary and punishment for disobedience was either slow and lingering, with death withheld until it seemed impossible that the victim could draw another breath or swiftly brutal and without warning, dealt out as an example to others.

Such a man as the Mouth knew well how to serve his Master. He understood what it was to need power for its own sake – that it replaced all other desires and wants. If he were the one to find the Ring and to deliver it to the Lord Sauron, his rewards would be limited only to the sway of his Master himself. 

In spite of his need for autonomy, the Mouth of Sauron would not try to claim the Ring, he knew only too well where that path lay, in death and failure. He knew that he must not lay hand upon the Ring, but that the halfling itself must be taken with the Ring, to Lord Sauron. That was the prize he would deliver. But to achieve this he must lure the wizard away from the halfling, the Nazgûl would not seize the little rat whilst the Grey Fool kept him in his charge. 

To that end always one of remaining seven was on constant watch. Unseen above the darkened clouds following the wizard's every move whilst he was abroad, watching and waiting. Waiting for a chance to seize the Ringbearer.

The Mouth's plan was half laid; the wizard had accepted the truce and would no doubt come ere long to find the other halfling that fortune had sent their way. He might even let the wizard have it back. 

***********************************************************************************************************

It was still quite early in the day, but the gloom that sat over the whole of this land gave it the feel of constant twilight. Drâmym and Ŭnomer were grateful for the darkness, it covered their movements and made their progress far less obvious. "Take care Master Healer and remember, don't tell where we are unless someone asks," Drâmym told Dysgwr once more.

"I know," Dysgwr was starting to like the two men of Rohan, in spite of their tendency to treat him as if he were a complete simpleton. Their evaluation of intelligence seemed to start and finish with how knowledgeable a person was of horses and to that end the healer knew nothing. Nevertheless, a bond had slowly grown out of their mutual concern for Meriadoc. "If anyone asks, you've gone to join your éored as you wish to die fighting with your comrades in arms."

Dysgwr watched the two stealthily leading their horses through the silent camp, knowing that they would not mount until they were in the shadow of the mountain and then would slowly pick their way through the rocks and shale to ride as invisibly as they could to the Black Gate. 

The three had sat in Council long enough to realise that fate would almost certainly decree the wizard could not go to rescue Merry and silently and unnoticed they had withdrawn. There had been no need for discussion, each knew the other's heart as well as his own. All they needed arrange was how. How could they rescue Merry? It would not have been allowed if they had asked but, even when they had first learned his whereabouts, Drâmym and Ŭnomer had decided in their hearts they would save the halfling, or die trying. 

Dysgwr blew on his fingers for luck and touched the tips to his heart, a strange superstition, but it made him feel better. Then hurriedly he made his way to the small circle of tents located at the back of the battlefield, behind an outcropping of rock and sheltered in the lee of the mountainside. He found the marquee he needed, tall and with the tree of Gondor embroidered upon the entrance and without waiting to be announced he entered. "Master Gimli, we meet again. I believe I can be of assistance."

The dwarf looked up from his vigil, his face gradually crinkling into a smile in recognition. "You're the healer from Minas Tirith – the very person! I can't imagine what you're doing here, but I'm very pleased to see you. I have a sick elf who needs healing."

***********************************************************************************************************

Drâmym and Ŭnomer had not been missed from the council and, as the two errant knights made their way secretly towards the Black Gate an even more urgent debate was now taking place. 

"He cannot go alone, that much is certain," Aragorn regarded Pippin critically, "He's practically lame, his right foot is hardly healed at all. He cannot talk properly and he's still relying far too much on opium, and that is without the added trauma that he has suffered."

Pippin looked indignantly up at the Ranger, "We not so bad you know Strider. Can ride on Shadowfax – he know where take We in Mordor," The hobbit turned questioningly to Gandalf, "You think he Shadowfax go take We and We ask he good?"

"You'd hardly be inconspicuous on Shadowfax, now would you Pippin?" Gandalf could see benefits to the hobbit riding, but it would be almost impossible for him to slip past anyone unnoticed on the Lord of the Mearas, that was why Pippin was riding the great horse in the first place – to be seen. "You'll have to use stealth and cunning to slip by the orcs – I can see no other way at the moment. I have tried to send word to the great eagle, Gwaihir, but I fear there may not be enough time."

"Perhaps you could dress him up like an orc," Éowyn suggested. "Some of those that you captured seem quite small. If you got enough armour he might pass for one."

"He would be taken prisoner almost as soon as he sets foot inside the Black Gate," Faramir pointed out. "Even if he was not, how will he get to Mount Doom on foot?"

"We don't think We can go walk that way." Pippin decided. Then picking up Gandalf's earlier suggestion. "Could go on eagle We be same for Unca Bilbo."

"But the eagles are not here, Pippin," Gandalf pointed out again, "No, I cannot see how it will work, there is no point in just sending you to be taken prisoner. They would discover you were a halfling in no time and you'd be taken off to Sauron."

"No!" Aragorn looked up with a glint sparkling in his eyes, "There is another way – you just said Gandalf, **_taken off to Sauron – as a prisoner_**. What if the orcs think he already is a prisoner?"

"How?" Pippin voiced what most were thinking. "Do We go hand We-selves in to they orcs? Do We sayed _take We to Sauron_?"

"No Pippin," Aragorn smiled at the suggestion. "They will just **_think_** you are a prisoner, you don't really have to be one. Would that Uruk, the one that you say is your friend – would he take you? Would he pose as your captor?"

"Smagnude?" Pippin gasped, "Not knowed if he do? He go saving My Merry and saved we both. But he bringed We most out of Mordor, now got ask he take We back?"

"It's the best idea yet." Faramir said, "Shall I bring him here?"

"Wait," Gandalf was not so sure. "What about the Ring? Might he be susceptible? 

"Smag not knowed about We Ring." Pippin pointed out, "What you got go tell he then?"

"Nothing, would be best." Aragorn said, then added, "Well as little as possible. Perhaps that you are looking for Merry."

"We Smag, he do go look at My Merry, think so." Pippin pointed out the flaw in that plan. "He just get My Merry and comed back." Then pointed out hopefully, "You let Smag go do that?"

Gandalf ignored the last part. "We don't really know where his allegiance lies, he is an orc when all is said and done." The Wizard could see it was the only workable solution at the moment but he was still cautious. "Just because he rescued you and Merry does not mean he is on our side. I suggest we question him to discover exactly where his loyalties lie."

"You go get you cestions Gandalf," Pippin sighed impatiently, "Then We think Smag got go get My Merry."

"Pippin, I've already explained that is not a good idea," Gandalf snapped with exasperation. "We need to find a way for you to go to Mount Doom without…"

"Didn't ex-plain no things at We, Gandalf." Pippin interrupted with his hands on his hips, "Didn't take no notices of We Pippin at all. Not never did and don't not do now anyway!"

"I'm sorry, Peregrin Took, but at times I do tend to miss how much you've understood," Gandalf actually managed a half smile, "Most probably because I don't understand you when I'm not concentrating. Now then, neither you nor your orc are to attempt to rescue Merry is that quite clear?"

"Because you got go do that," Pippin agreed as if he was stating the obvious, "while We and Smagnude go get We into Mordor."

Gandalf smiled again, "I expect so. Now will someone fetch the wretched orc?"

Pippin muttered under his breath "We Smagnude not go be wretched!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"So you wants me to take Little Pip back into Mordor?" Smagnu was more than a little twitchy called to give audience before such an esteemed company. The wizard alone made him nervous, but when he realised there were several Princes and a possible King also questioning him he felt decidedly out of his depth. "Well I mean after I got him out an' all."

"It is a very important mission." Gandalf said sternly, "If your loyalties truly lie with the West and you have no duty to Sauron, you will do this service."

"What's it all for then?" Smagnu was nervous, but not stupid. He needed to know what he was letting himself in for. "Seems like Little Pip is the last one to send to a place like that – why don't one of you lot go?"

"No, it has to be Peregrin Took, I mean Pippin." Gandalf could not blame the orc for asking the question, in fact he would have been surprised had he not. But all the same, he was not about to answer him. "I can tell you no more than that – except that it is vital if we are to achieve victory over Sauron."

"And if you does that – I mean if I helps you, what do I get?" Smagnu, in spite of saving both Merry and Pippin's lives, was not too conversant with altruism, "and what about my orcs?"

"What do you get if you don't?" Aragorn asked. "You seem to have thrown your lot in with our side. It did not escape our attention that your battalion was not exactly fighting to the death in the battle, so why would you not want to help us?"

"What about the other little Pip," Smagnu frowned when no one seemed to know who he meant, "You know, New Little Pip? Why doesn't he go? Where is he?"

"Who are you talking about?" Gandalf was still not sure how the orc knew Pippin's name since the hobbit had been without speech when they met, he assumed Merry had told him once he recovered his memory. "There is only one Pippin – thank the Valar!"

"The other halfling that was with Pip – New Little Pip," Smagnu remembered how confused he and Grutfley had been about this. "Me and Grutfley named our halfling, this one," he nodded at Pippin, "Pip, and then the other one that we got said his name was Pip. We thought at the time they was all called that."

"It be My Merry," Pippin punched Smagnu in the leg to get his attention, much as he had grown used to doing when he could not speak, "My Merry in Mordor, Smagnude and they is go hanged he at the Big Gate, We got get he down – soon."

"So that's what you wants me to do?" Smagnu had as much difficulty understanding Pippin as anyone else. "Go and rescue New Little Pip."

"No!" Gandalf drew a deep breath, "Pippin, don't interrupt please, you're confusing your orc." The Wizard started again, "We want you, Captain Smagnu, to take Pippin, this halfling," he patted Pippin on his head, causing the hobbit to pout, "into Mordor, posing as his captor. You must claim that you are taking him to Barad-dûr, but then, once you have passed the orc legions, you must take him to Orodruin and leave him there. Is that clear? That's all you must do, no rescuing other hobbits or waiting to bring Pippin back, you just take him there and leave him." The council had decided it would be safer to leave Pippin to complete the task alone, since Gandalf and Aragorn feared greatly that the orc, if he became aware of the Ring, might try to take It.

"That's it?" Smagnu put his hand down automatically to stop Pippin hitting him in the thigh, again trying to get his attention, something the orc had grown used to doing as well, "just leave him there?" Smagnu surveyed the intense, aristocratic faces of these highborn people around him. He had always heard that men were cold, callous and greedy – but to take Little Pip and leave him at the volcano seemed rather harsh – even for men. True he could be annoying at times, but Smagnu had grown very attached to him, to say nothing of protective. Did they really want him abandoned in Mordor? It seemed an extreme way of getting rid of the little halfling. 

No, there had to be more to it than they were telling him. Then the realisation hit him. It was just as he had always thought! The big Uruk knelt down and took Pippin by the shoulders looking critically into a surprised pair of green eyes as if trying to fathom something that lay beyond. "Just as Grutfley always says, you are magic Little Pip aren't you? You're more powerful than this Wizard even I dare say. I suppose I'd best had do it or I won't never hear the last of it." Pippin just grinned.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows to Aragorn with a silent sigh of relief. It was perhaps unfortunate that this strange orc believed Pippin was some sort of magician, but on the other hand, it meant that he would follow his orders without further question. The Wizard nodded sagely, "I suppose Pippin is a powerful Enchanter, in his own way."

***********************************************************************************************************

Dysgwr ran his hand expertly over Legolas's chest and shook his head with what he found. "You say the troll fell on him? How long before you got it off again?"

"Not too long," Gimli watched the healer's face anxiously, "The orcs made it stand up, but he was damaged, I think by the weight mostly."

"Yes, I was worried he might have been starved of air for a long time." Dysgwr examined the binding Aragorn had used to set the broken arm with a sniff of approval. "He is not breathing well, and I know there is something else amiss. I am certain that there is a broken rib that needs to be repaired and it will not do so without my intervention. He should not be so deeply unconscious for so long."

"Aragorn did reset the arm, but he said it was only field healing and that he needed proper looking at." Gimli too had been worried at Legolas's long sleep, even for an injured elf, it had seemed not quite right.

"I will have to cut him I'm afraid," Dysgwr began to prepare his accoutrements. Even though the healer was not used to travel, he had still remembered to bring the tools of his trade, especially as he knew he would be at a battlefield. "There is a rib that has broken and I think it may have caused damage within."

"Wait!" Gimli was well aware of the effect such a procedure could have on Pippin, or indeed Merry, whatever else was happening to him. "Will you give him anything for pain? Will it bring him to consciousness? What about the hobbits?"

"It may," Dysgwr was usually happy to discuss healing matters with those around him, although he scarce saw what it had to do with the halflings. "What do you mean – what of the hobbits?"

"They will feel any pain that Legolas feels," Gimli was now well aware of the shared feelings of his friends, "Lady Éowyn too, possibly," he added. "You must warn them first, or at least give Legolas something that will stop him from feeling anything."

"To do that I would have to bring him back to consciousness first." Dysgwr explained. "I have some laudanum and opium. But he needs to sup it."

"I have been trying to bring him round for some time now." Gimli frowned, "He seems to be very deeply asleep. Perhaps he would respond to young Peregrin."

"Why do you think that?" Dysgwr found great difficulty in understanding the hobbit's affinity with the elf. "Is it to do with his odd way of talking?"

"Arum-hrump!" Gimli stifled a chortle, "Yes, something of that nature. But I'll see if we can get him here before he goes off somewhere else, hard to keep up with these hobbits you know."

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Drâmym and Ŭnomer knew how to be discreet, and they always acted with the best of intentions even if they were not always well thought out intentions. They had a distinct feeling that Mithrandir was going to refuse to ransom Merry, that the wizard intended to leave him to his fate or, at least, would take his time over deciding to rescue their comrade.

Drâmym and Ŭnomer considered Merry to be a fellow Rider of Rohan, particularly since he had been sworn to the service of Théoden, but even more so from the day when he had saved Drâmym's life, such a debt would never be fully paid and the two men of Rohan would risk all for the halfling. Besides, they were warriors of the King, dedicated to serve and protect, they would not abandon brave Meriadoc to the cruel fate of hostage.

Stealthily their horses picked their way around the side of the battlefield, both animals straining to rush forward, the smell and sight of dead or dying orcs unnerving them almost to the point of panic. But they were well trained and beneath the skilled riders' hands the two horses kept their course.

"I think here we must dismount," Drâmym whispered as they came to a jagged outcrop of rock. They could clamber over themselves, but the horses would have had to detour round, far out from the shelter of the walls of Mordor along which they had travelled to avoid detection. "We can climb down after half a league and the horses will wait here for us."

"Yes, it must be only a short distance after that," Ŭnomer stood as high as he could in his stirrups to see where they must go. "I can see the beginning of the Gate in the distance."

The two men took just water, swords and a length of rope with them and made their way over the slippery, mud covered rocks, still wary of detection as, although the area was almost deserted, but for the dead and dying, still amongst the bodies wandered the odd creature. Man, orc or beast, sometimes it was hard to tell, indeed the Riders were not even sure if the intent of the solitary individuals was succour or looting or perhaps even hunger for any kind of flesh. Drâmym shuddered at the thought, but they were not here to rescue or defend the dying on the field. Most of these were orcs in any case, although there were some men that were being brought back to the now distant camp. But their goal, his and Ŭnomer's, was one individual who Drâmym guessed no one else was going to attempt to rescue.

"Not far now," Ŭnomer pointed to the turret on the first side of the Great Gate, "I can't see anything of him yet, but that must be the place."

By now they had cleared the treacherous rocks and were back on firmer, flatter ground and had reached the outer wall that would bring them eventually to the Gate. Careful to stay in the shadow of the wall, following it's perimeter closely to avoid being seen, they moved along slowly, hoping but dreading to see their friend at any moment, dangling helplessly from the rope as Gandalf had described. 

The gate was now before them and frantically they both scanned the length and breadth of the structure. Merry was small but they had thought to see him without too much difficulty. Eventually Drâmym's keen sight spied a length of rope hanging from the centre of the gate. "Ŭnomer! Look!" He pointed, his mouth dropping open in horror. "That must be it – but it's empty! Merry's gone!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"Legolas? Legolas?" Pippin held the elf's hand and patted it gently, then, when he got no response, a little harder. "You go come wakened up now, Legolas. Mister Duswer say you go waked up in a little minute."

"We have tried to wake him in that way, young Pippin," Gimli pointed out, "I don't think he's going to hear you any more than he could hear us. I thought perhaps you could – you know – reach him the other way that you do, in your mind."

"Gandalf sayed We not got do that more time now." Pippin said, carrying on with his patting. "We not talked in We minds at We elf, nor even at My Merry can go do that."

"But you talked to him when Aragorn was setting his arm." Gimli furrowed his brow trying to remember, "Well I thought you did."

"Not talked, just hurted and not mean to go do – it big mistrake!" Pippin said petulantly.

"Mistake?" Dysgwr corrected automatically.

"What We sayed," Pippin sighed. He found it hard to understand that people thought his speech strange, it sounded all right to him. When he had first started to talk again he had made an effort to correct himself, but as time went on he had become more distracted and now his language sounded perfectly normal to his own ear. Even when Legolas and Gandalf had tried to make him talk properly, Pippin had not really understood what the problem was or how to correct it. "Neverwise, We can't do it and Gandalf sayed not – don't think so." Pippin had another thought, "We could taked the poppy though and then not feeled too much Legolas."

"Don't you dare Peregrin Took," Gandalf had arrived silently and overheard the last suggestion. "You really need to be alert for now. There must be another way you can call to Legolas."

"Not We call and you don't say so Gandalf." Pippin looked pleadingly up at the wizard, "Least can We call We elf? Please?"

"Perhaps there is a way." Gandalf bent down and took Pippin's hand. "Do you think you are strong enough in your mind speak to talk to Gimli? On your own I mean –without other help?"

Pippin looked surprised and unsure, "Not knowed that Gandalf. You want We go try it? You want go try Gimli?" He turned to the dwarf and then quickly back to Gandalf, "What We go say at he?"

"Try to contact Gimli and then show him the way into Legolas's consciousness." Gandalf took the dwarf by the shoulder, "Are you willing to try Gimli? You have become good friends with Legolas and perhaps that bond is now strong enough that, with Peregrin's help, you can reach him."

"Of course I shall try Gandalf," Gimli looked very serious, although he was slightly alarmed at the prospect. "Is it – I mean is it dangerous… or ahurm… you know… what does any one see in my mind?"

"Do not fear," Gandalf knew many were anxious about this aspect of mind speaking, "Pippin is skilled enough by now to only touch that part of your mind that you would have him see and Legolas is more than able to be discreet, there is no danger to you."

"Pippin – skilled?" Gimli frowned at this information, "I can barely understand him when he speaks aloud."

"You'll find him easier to comprehend in his mind, I'm sure," Gandalf was not totally confident about this but he did not want to alarm Gimli. "The important thing is to remain very neutral and quiet about any information, especially concerning the Ring."

"Won't there be a danger then," Gimli asked, "I mean the same as if Pippin were talking to Legolas? Why is it safe for him to talk to me?"

"I think it should be reasonably safe," Gandalf frowned, hoping he had got it right, "Sauron cannot listen all the time to every conversation and He is more alert to hearing Pippin speak with Legolas. This way He should not notice – that is if the message is through you."

"Yes – of course." Gimli felt even more nervous now, but was not about to show it. He could hardly refuse to do something the young hobbit seemed to excel at. "I… um I'll be fine. Just – one other thing, I won't end up talking like Errum… like young Pippin will I?"

"What go be wrong and We talkering?" Pippin seemed genuinely bemused by the question.

"No, Gimli," Gandalf reassured him. "I think that is a Pippin speciality, you are quite safe."

Pippin came and gently took his hand, leading the dwarf over to Legolas. Dysgwr and Gandalf watched with some fascination at the way the hobbit took charge. "Put you handses on We face Gimli." Pippin ordered, placing the dwarf's hands on either cheek, "and think you go mind is empetied, excepted for Pippin."

_'gimli? you go hear We? and you do go say We name – say pip…'_

There was nothing for a long drawn out moment. Pippin gazed hard into Gimli's eyes and willed him to hear. He tried again. 

_'gimli? got go hear at We… say please We name… say you pip…'_

A pause… a heartbeat… then another…

**_'PiPPin? taLkiNg aT thEE aM I GimLi.'_**

_'gimli you go sounded more funniest and We go sounded'_ Pippin's sparkling little laugh resounded in the dwarf's head making him smile in return… _'and now you go make happery smilings at We! you go good at be in you head…'_

**_'mOst thIng tO bE strAngE iT – nOt sOUnD bEst Of rIgHt thIs!'_**

'not go worriering gimli – it not you don't talk good elf you not do good head talkering'

**_'sTrAnGe thAt I undrEsTrAnD thEE wElL iN hEaD sPeAk.'_**

_'it not staingrer at We… now We not talkering and you go call at legolas. call he name and think at he…'_

**_'LEgOlAs! Hear I sPeAk tO thEE, LEgOlAs! LEgOlAs!'_**

"Let go half We face now," Pippin said out loud and, taking Gimli's right hand, he gently placed it on Legolas's brow. 

_'you go call at legolas more gimli…'_

**_'LEgOlAs! LEgOlAs! tHoU hEaR voIcE oF I!'_**

_'I hear you, but this is most strange! Gimli why are you here?'_

**_'cAmE I tO sPeAk tO thEE – fOr tHoU  dOsT slEeP WheN tHoU sHoUlD wAkEn'_**      

_'I have never spoken to a dwarf in my mind before, your language is very strange – stranger even than the hobbits.'_

**_'tIs mOsT strAngE eVeN UnTo I – bUt mOst gRatIfIEd mIghT I bE sHOulD tHoU nOw aWAkEn – fOr a pOtIOn nOW tHoU mUsT tAke fOr tHe sParIng Of tHe hOBBits'_**

_'Very well, I shall try, although my mind and body protest and would prefer to stay dull and mute.'_

Gimli had watched Legolas's face carefully the whole time he had been in mind touch with him. At first he saw a slight twitch to the corner of the elf's mouth and now there was a definite quirk as Legolas forced his consciousness up to meet with that of his friend's. 

Pippin, Gandalf and Dysgwr watched with fascination as well. Pippin had withdrawn as soon as he felt Gimli establish contact with Legolas, moving the other of the dwarf's hands to his friend's face without him really noticing the hobbit leave, so engrossed he was in the liaison. Both their faces changed expression as they engaged in silent conversation, until eventually, Legolas's unseeing eyes flickered open and he reached up to take Gimli's hand that was resting upon his cheek.

"Ah!" Gimli kept his hand on Legolas's brow and held the other firmly in the elf's grasp. "Now that you're awake, Master Dysgwr here can feed you a potion to stop pain." Gimli felt he had to explain it properly as he seriously doubted the eloquence of his mind speech, "He needs to perform some surgery upon you my friend and we were afraid you might waken suddenly and, not just you, but the hobbits and Lady Éowyn would be damaged by the pain."

_'Gimli, thank you for coming to me in my mind. How did you manage it?'_ Legolas spoke in the dwarf's head, his speech and sight still not returned, or likely to be.

"It was young Pippin," Gimli said, still aloud, then added, **_'hE brOUgHt I tO tHy mInD - mOsT sKilLeD iS hE!'_**

"May I give him the draught now, Master Gimli?" Dysgwr drew near, impatient to start. He knew that the elf's condition was poor and that he needed the treatment as soon as possible.

_'Wait – Gimli!'_ Legolas had slept long but suddenly his mind raced back to the thought that had taxed him just before his senses had fled and the darkness taken him. _'It was Merry! He had reached me. He was afraid and he was somewhere – a prison, he said it was like a mine, a dark place, cave like and that he was under a table. Does that sound logical?'_

"Aye it would make much sense," Gimli nodded even though Legolas could not see him. "But sadly now he has gone from there. The place he is now is not dark or confined, I fear."

_'No – that is not right!'_ Legolas frantically had to convey this latest sensation. _'He was in an open place – a place where he was very afraid, too big, too high! But now he is gone from there and is back in the small cave again – he wanted me to leave him, said he was dead, but I do not think he is, Gimli – you must tell the others!'_

Dysgwr would wait no longer and held the potion he had prepared to the elf's lips. Weak and exhausted now, Legolas drank without complaint or argument and within several moments he was deeply unconscious, sinking back into Gimli's arms.

Carefully the dwarf laid him back down on the bedroll and called softly to Gandalf, who was just about to leave with Pippin. "Wait, there is something you both need to know."

***********************************************************************************************************

Fool! His Master had called him a fool! The Mouth of Sauron, in spite of his title, was in constant touch with his Lord and Master. Each day the great Eye would reach out and know his thoughts, question his actions, demand answers and express His pleasure or, as more recently was the case, curse him for an idiot. 

No halflings were to be returned to the wizard, not under any circumstances. They must be brought to Him, dead or alive. The halfling that hung from the Gate was to be brought to Barad-dûr as soon as an escort could be found, one that would not lose it this time. 

The Mouth had explained his strategy, that he was using the halfling as bait for the wizard. That he believed the wizard kept the halfling with the Ring – the One Ring – His Ring – and that only by distracting the wizard could the Nazgûl hope to take that halfling.

The Great Lord Sauron was more enraged by this than anything. He would send the Nazgûl to take the halfling from the wizard – they would fly on their winged steeds and best the wizard. He would strengthen them so that the remaining seven together would defeat the wretched Istar once and for all! Olórin will be no match for Sauron if all His might is poured out at once.

The Mouth was in poor humour. His carefully conceived plans had gone awry and now he must try to execute his Master's plan, preferably without losing face before his own minions. 

"You! Majdi," He snapped the order at the man as soon as he emerged from his private room where he held his communion with his Master. "Fetch that halfling back – the one you hung from the Gate. Bring it back here at once."

"Yes, Master," Majdi frantically wondered if he had missed something of importance, some instruction that he had not carried out. "I thought it was to be left there."

"Fool!" The Mouth snarled at him. "Why would I waste a prisoner that the Lord Sauron wants for his own? Fetch it at once and keep it safe." He snapped his fingers for food to be laid before him and the other servants jumped to his needs at once. "Give it to the Chief Orc here and tell him that a messenger will collect it. It is to go to Barad-dûr as soon as possible."

Majdi Rann did not answer back again, to question his master more than once would be foolhardy in the extreme. Rather he left the chambers with alacrity and began the long climb up to the bridge of the Great Gates. He was confused but vaguely comforted that he had been ordered to fetch the little creature back. It had worried him greatly, so frantic it had seemed and so unthreatening for such a terrible punishment to meted out to it. 

"Pull it up," he brusquely ordered the first orc on guard duty. 

"But they ain't come fer it yet… an' wass the point…"

"Do not question my orders!" Majdi rammed the orc in the belly with the hilt of his sword. "You'll feel the point of this if you don't have it up here in the next minute."

Without further argument the orc and his mate, began hauling the rope, hand over hand, until the halfling, dazed and spinning around with the movement, was close enough to be manhandled up onto the platform.

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Merry was beyond pain, beyond sorrow. The cord cut cruelly into his armpits and across his chest, where the wound he had received, nagged at him and the pressure, in spite of the elven rope and the mithril shirt was constant. But he was only dimly aware of the pain, it was like a background noise that he could not quite make out but still could not manage to completely ignore. 

As his body turned slowly round and round, dangling from the end of the long rope, he watched numbly as the group below him slowly rode away and out of his sight. Silently, with tears burning the back of his eyes, he mouthed one last word, "Pippin?" Then his mind flew away, not wanting to deal with any more grief or pain.

Merry had not expected to open his eyes again in this life. He had all but made up his mind that his time was come and that he must surely be about to die, he certainly no longer felt any overwhelming desire to live. 

But his body was turning round and round again as the rope was dragged up and he with it. Then there were hard, evil hands upon him, lifting him up onto solid ground once more. They set him on his feet but he sank down to the ground, his legs too shaky to support him. They pulled his hood back, presumably to see if he was still alive, then he heard a voice that was vaguely familiar, the voice of the man that had brought him here.

"Careful, don't hurt it! Give it to me!"

Merry felt a strong, big hand grip his upper arm and lift him to his feet. His eyes followed up the arm and he saw the man's face and tried to pull away, remembering the blows and that this was the one who had ordered him hung from the Gate. A knife glinted wickedly in his hand and Merry closed his eyes again. Had he come to slit his throat? Perhaps he was not dying quickly enough and they had ordered him to be finished off before he was thrown back over the Gate. His friends were to be treated to the spectacle of him strung up dead like a crow in a cornfield. Poor Pip – he should not have to see that. Merry lunged for the edge, trying to escape being mutilated in this way. If he could cast himself off the bridge, at least he would die quickly and they would not bother to retrieve his body to exhibit in callous victory.

The hand locked around his arm like a vice and dragged him back, but it was not his throat that was cut but the rope bonds that held his arms behind him and then the tether was sawn through. Merry watched the end of the rope kicked back over the side of the gate and go snaking down to hang eerily emptily where recently he had been.

The man pulled him in and turned him about making him walk alongside, his feet barely touching the ground. Merry could see the orcs watching him, some nudging each other in speculation and then quickly looking away as the man turned towards them. At least no money changed hands.

Merry was lifted and carried down the stairs, slung over the man's shoulder like a piece of baggage. They retraced the path that had brought him there in the first place, back into the cave-like rooms, but now there was an orc there, a large Uruk. The man placed Merry on the floor and continued past the orc, Phunnie he called him, and then they were in the small room again and the table was there as before. Merry was pushed down and under the table. He did not fight, but curled in around himself, defeated and without purpose or resolve. He had tried to suicide by trying to throw himself from the Gate, but that had failed, he did not know how to escape his present predicament, Merry felt so out of control of his destiny and that scared him witless. He desperately tried to listen to any snatches of conversation, but they spoke in the Black Tongue for the most part. Then a few words fell on his ears that he understood. 

"…take the perian to Lord Sauron as soon as a reliable messenger is found. You cannot go, no, Lord Sauron will send for him – I have spoken!"

This meant that Merry would be taken once more to Barad-dûr. It was the one fate he dreaded, even more than dying, even more than dying before Pippin's eyes. It was why he and Pippin had tried to kill themselves before, why they had managed to escape His clutches. For if he were taken to Sauron, Merry knew he could not conceal all that was in his mind, he would tell Sauron about the Ring and perhaps even lead Him to Frodo and Pippin. There was nothing left for him to do. 

Merry closed his eyes and screwing up his courage so as not to allow his message to sound frantic and attract the wrong attention, he sent out a tendril of thought. He dare not try to reach Pippin for he knew that would be heard and there was no point in touching Frodo or Sam, for what could they do. Éowyn would have been better, but Merry was not sure he could reach her from so far. That left only one chance and it was small as well as dangerous.

_'legolas? it go be merry – i not hangded no more – you go hear i? i back in room… got go taked with orc in littlel minute think – go got take i black towrer…you hear i legolas? please! legolas please hearing i…'_

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TBC

Sorry about the long wait this time, I'll try to be faster with the next update. Lots of threads and pieces coming together but in the next chapter things will really get moving.

Of course, I nearly did not update at all because I got severely pissed off at some people having a go at Recap on a Recs page on LJ. I don't understand why people think it's all right to have a go at a story just because they don't like it. It's not stealing their car or burning their house down or being rude to their grandmother, why not just leave it alone? If you had to pay money to read fanfiction it might be different, but you don't – it's free. All the author asks is a little courtesy – not too great a price surely? 

And who wrote the rule book on "well if you didn't want your story criticized you shouldn't put it on ff.net!" Who said? I mean it's not like it's my job or anything? I reserve the right to get miffed at rudeness and sulk as much as I want.

Anyway – you people don't need to hear this as you are all polite and supportive in the extreme – so thanks for that and here we go with the backchat!

Llinos

Shrewd Comments and Smart Alec Replies

ssi3 Thomas: I was wondering if you could include the prince of Dol Amroth more or if just kill him off  
Llinos: Not sure from this if you like him or just want to see him suffer?

Brenon Briarwood: Last but not least, congratulations on the Mushrooms. Let's have a stir-fry!  
Llinos: You see they don't actually send you any mushrooms – golden or otherwise – still thanks for the grats! It was wonderful to get noticed so nicely.

NekoHitori: goodness, so much has happened this chapter!  
Llinos: Well they've still got it all to do!

SarahSweetie: Smagnu hasn't met Merry, though, right?  
Llinos: Well he did – he looked after him in Barad-dûr along with Pip, only he thinks he's called "New Little Pip". Yeah I know, it's complicated.

MagicalRachel: I look forward to seeing where else you will take this...  
Llinos: Thanks Rach – me too!

redtoes: Is Merry's arm actually broken or is he just feeling the effects of Legolas' being reset  
Llinos: Legolas's pain, plus he's still suffering from the WitchKing stabbing effect. The rest of your questions are but a flicker in the future which we will both have to wait and see.

Pip4: That's great! Pippin giving orders to an Uruk.  
Llinos: Well he did practice on Treebeard first – and he was a lot bigger.

star's dreams: getting to a computer is hard, since I don't have one.  
Llinos: Oh dear – well I hope you can read this!

pipwise brandygin: I love the idea of Merry and Pip charming everyone they come across,  
Llinos: But they do though – don't they!

Eldarin Queen: Poor Legolas... when oh when will he get his sight and hearing back?  
Llinos: When? Or will he? Evil Author Alert!

QTPie: there was a bit of everyone in this chapter now wasn't there?  
Llinos: Pretty much – just Boromir missing really. I wonder – no really.

Wynded: Smagnude rocks my socks!  
Llinos: And Pip's (and mine but don't tell anyone!)

Xena: Majdi is an interesting character; it's nice to see he's not totally evil.  
Llinos: See that's my problem – I don't think any one (even Sauron) is totally evil – I have real writing evil difficulties. I'm a kind of evil dyslexic.

meatball: Long chapter! I like long chapters!  
Llinos: Aha – and this one is even longer – so I hope you're happy. (I know, I know – faster next time).

Lindelea: troll belonging to Pippin… "He followed me home... can I keep him?"  
Llinos: Not like he'd ask really – I think he'd just announce, "this go be my troll!"

curly29: (runs off to find the eagles to save merry from death and to bring pippin to mt doom to destroy the ring quickly).  
Llinos: No – put the eagles back Curly, we're not doing that.

Sakura123: Pippin holding Uruk Hai's hand... he's acting more like a baby than a Hobbit.  
Llinos: Oh no, you have to hold on to them – who knows where they'll wander off to!

Hai Took: As always waiting anxiously for more!  
Llinos: So many things – as always anxiously awaiting more review.

scarlet Angel: *bows*  
Llinos: *bows politely in return*  
scarlet Angel: Moria's Revenge" - WHICH NEEDS TO BE UPDATED... SOON or I Shall die!  
Llinos: You listening Kooks? (Ahem ~ I've written most of my bit ~ Ahem)

Mistoffelees: - tying a hobbit up by his wrists and dropping him?" The orcs do that to Pippin in Moria's Revenge.  
Llinos: Aha but Kooks did that – and with far more dire consequences – dislocations and stuff – I'm much too sappy for that!

Eowyen lady of horses: don't kill Pippin, Merry, or Legolas  
Llinos: I'll try really, really hard not to.

sam: Poor Gimli! He might need therapy too, trying to understand how Pip can boss around the Uruk.  
Llinos: Well now perhaps he can get it from Legolas.

Rosaleen: I hope you continue soon.  
Llinos: Well I will next time – promsis!

Baylor: My favorite part was hands-down the introduction of Majdi Rann and his moral debating.  
Llinos: Poor Majdi – and no, we've not seen the last of him.

Rebecca: Will you write some Merry/Legolas interaction soon?  
Llinos: Welcome Rebecca – I'm sorry there's not too much of this here – but both Merry and Legolas are a bit out of it at the mo! Still you never know what the future might bring!

Jeodo Brandybuck: Since Pippin isn't allowed to bring his orc, might I also borrow his orc to bring along on my adventures? Or at least to my classes?  
Llinos: Well he's a little busy at the mo – see how he's fixed in a week or two.

Freya: Merry-angst is so rare  
Llinos: Alas! You'd think people didn't want him to suffer?

Birch tree: Please don't let one stupid person stop you, or even slow you down!  
Llinos: Sadly – I do. Yes I know it's daft, but there really are no rules about how you should feel and when. The thing about fanfic is there is no compulsion from either side – no one makes you write it and no one makes you read it. But thanks for the kind words.

Tasha: But seriously, you've *got* to stop tormenting my poor Merry! *whimper*  
Llinos: Well give me 10, no 20, er no, 100 good reasons – then I might!

Ptath: Wow! I just finished read all 124 chapters of Recaptured  
Llinos: Welcome, welcome – at your service and your family's!

Me: You're driving me insane!! That is all I have to say...  
Llinos: That's enough really… (PS: sorry about the insanity).

vensre: Happy anniversary of Recaptured!  
Llinos: Thank you – virtual champagne all round!

vensre: Pippin's language feels like all kanji with the hiragana removed.  
Llinos: I don't speak Japanese (did you guess) but I used Welsh, or rather my badly spoken baby Welsh as a pattern. I think it's what happens when you dive into a language at the conversation end and don't learn the grammar. Glad it worked for you though. Some people think that it's just to make the hobbits sound childish – whereas what I'm aiming for is for them to be speaking in a foreign language. Now Gimli has tried it and he is getting muddled in a completely Dwarvish and different way.  
  
Oh and hello there to new readers, Pervy Hobbit Fancier, Orange, Huygens and any one else recently arrived. Thanks for the reviews you left and hope to see you in chapter 125/33 before too long!

Llinos


	34. Following Orders

Following Orders  
Recaptured – Chapter 126

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

If Gandalf had registered Gimli's parting words he did not show it, but steered Pippin out of the tent so that Dysgwr could begin his surgery upon Legolas. The wizard was anxious to make arrangements for Pippin's immediate departure now that it was clear what he had to do. He was not confident of the outcome and so wanted to give Pippin as much preparation as possible.

"Gandalf! Gandalf! We thinks Gimli is sayering more things at We!" Pippin had heard the dwarf say that there was something important they should know and Pippin suspected that it was not only important but something to do with Merry and therefore was most anxious to hear it.

"Gimli is busy with Legolas now and we have to go and organise your orc." Gandalf gave Pippin a half smile, "You are certain he can be trusted?"

"Of courses! He does listering at We Gandalf!" Pippin was indignant, "not same as some wizards We knows!"

"I listen to you Peregrin Took!" Gandalf glanced down at the hobbit and was struck, not for the first time, at the enormity of the task he was about to entrust to this small, vulnerable looking creature, "I just don't always take any notice. Which in this case," Gandalf added quickly before Pippin could point out his folly, "has proved to be a mistake."

Pippin was somewhat perplexed and caught off guard by Gandalf's admission and contented himself with a frown as he bobbed along at his side.

Smagnu was waiting where he had been interviewed originally, Aragorn and Éomer eyeing the Uruk suspiciously, asking the occasional question and making a concerted effort not to hew the creature's head from his body. It was hardly audible, but a sigh of relief was discernable as Gandalf and Pippin returned, although uncomfortable glances were exchanged when Pippin enthusiastically grabbed the orc's leg and Smagnu lifted the hobbit up and threw him in the air, caught him and placed him on the ground again, wobbly but obviously relaxed and happy with the great creature.

"What you go be doing We Smagnude?" Pippin looked happily up at the orc, "Did you get nice littlel talkerings with Strider?"

"Just waiting here Little Pip." Smagnu affirmed. "Like your Wizard said. When do we leave for Orodruin?"

"What's that?" Pippin frowned at the word, "Oh it fire place? Where We got taked…"

"Hush Peregrin!" Gandalf knew that Pippin trusted the orc, nevertheless, he should know better than to talk about the Ring to anyone not already aware of It. "I shall instruct Captain Smagnu with all he needs to know. And it's not a fireplace with coals burning in a grate – it's a volcano!"

"What We sayed! Fire place!" Pippin was genuinely puzzled, it sounded exactly the same to him. "And We was onerly go sayering, where We got taked Ourselves!"

Éomer cast a look of bewilderment at Aragorn, who shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "I do not set too much expectation on the success of this mission," Aragorn said, "but there is a faint hope it will not fail."

"Just a fool's hope, I agree," Gandalf smiled down at Pippin, "but with a fool of a Took to execute it, I think our chances are good." Pippin looked back up at the wizard as if to say something, but then merely smiled back.

"Have you made a plan Mithrandir?" Éomer asked, "How is the little one to travel? And what of Merry?"

"Yes, We needs to know that things," Pippin put in anxiously, "speciallery 'bout My Merry."

"I have decided that Pippin must travel by horse," Gandalf explained, "There is no other way, which means Captain Smagnu will need a beast to ride that will bear both of them."

"I am afraid that none of our horses will carry the Uruk," Éomer cast a wary glance at Smagnu, "they have been trained not to bear orcs of any kind. It is done to stop our steeds from being stolen."

"Hmm," Gandalf seemed to be thinking out loud, "we have no other horses here except for Shadowfax and he will not suffer an orc on his back either. It seems we have met with an insurmountable problem before we start!"

"No!" Smagnu spoke suddenly, making all heads turn towards him, "I can run." Pippin looked up with pride at his strong orc, "there is no need for me to ride, just give little Pip a horse to carry him and I will run alongside. None will think it strange as orcs know that the Whiteskins' horses will not tolerate our kind. As soon as I can, I will acquire a horse from within the Black Gate."

"It could only be Shadowfax though," Gandalf looked at Pippin with a small smile, "I do not think Peregrin can ride any other full sized horse and we have no ponies."

"Shadowfax would be somewhat conspicuous," Aragorn pointed out, "particularly once they leave the area of the armies and head for Mount Doom."

"We could try to disguise him," Éomer suggested, "Perhaps with a caparison or some kind of barding."

"I am not certain that Shadowfax would tolerate that," Gandalf sighed. "He is after all the Lord of the Mearas and does not suffer any harness or rein."

"We could go askering he" Pippin suggested, "he go do wearing horse clothes for Pippin We thinks!"

"Yes, you could be right Peregrin Took," Gandalf agreed, "Shadowfax has been exceedingly patient with you – he may well accede to this should you request it."

"You're talking about a horse?" Smagnu looked at Pippin, his jaw hanging a little too wide to disguise his total bewilderment. "You're going to ask a horse if it minds wearing clothes? And the wizard thinks it will agree." Smagnu shook his head in amazement at his little Pip, "Well that's good to know."

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Gimli was satisfied that Legolas was sleeping peacefully, his surgery complete and Dysgwr firmly installed at his side with promises not to move from the elf except to fetch anything Legolas should require.

The dwarf knew that his friend's last message had been very important and, although Gandalf and Pippin were preoccupied and intent upon their mission, they still needed to know the last few words that Legolas had sent to him in their mindlink before sinking into unconsciousness. 

It had actually taken Gimli a little while to discover the importance of what he had been told. At first it had not made much sense and the dwarf, unfamiliar with mind talking, had wondered if he had misunderstood. But he decided that he should not be the one to conclude that, in this case Gandalf, or possibly even the young hobbit, would be better qualified to know.

As he walked, Gimli tried to get the message straight in his own mind. **_Merry was back in a small room, under the table. He thought he would be taken to Barad-dûr soon and he was afraid that an orc would be coming for him._** Gimli was quite puzzled at this information for, as far as he and all the others knew, Merry had been left hanging from the Black Gate as a hostage to lure the wizard away from Pippin. But, on the other hand, it was not very likely that Legolas would imagine such a message without there being some foundation for it.

Then again, perhaps the elf was delirious and had imagined the whole thing. He was not too sure that he was not delirious himself – speaking to Legolas in his head was the last thing he ever expected to do when his Sire had bidden him farewell in Rivendell, reminding him that he was representing Aul's people and to keep a polite distance from the elf.

But Legolas was not, in his experience, given to flights of fantasy, injured or otherwise, still it could just be wishful dreaming on his part to think that Merry had been taken down from that appalling torture. Nevertheless if that were so, why would he wish the greater peril on him of being taken to the Black Tower – into the very clutches of the Dark Lord Sauron? 

A sudden thought leapt unbidden into Gimli's head. Thorin Oakenshield himself had once told him that, intelligent dwarves make bad leaders. "Being able to see all ends and every point of view, takes brains my lad," the great warrior had said, "but it doesn't help to get things done!" Gimli had never been too sure if Thorin had meant he was clever or would be a good leader and he hadn't liked to ask. It occurred to him now that the great chief had meant he was intelligent and therefore not destined to lead.

Just as Gimli had decided to stop analysing the situation and let the others worry about the accuracy of the information, his mind was made up for him. 

Éowyn was upset which was why she probably was not looking where she was going, her mind firmly fixed on trying to find her brother. 

"Oooff!"

"Aiee! I'm sorry Master Dwarf, I did not see you." Éowyn recovered first, in spite of her unhealed injuries. "I did not see you there."

"Aye, my apologies Milady," Gimli tried to collect his thoughts and himself and rearrange both in the proper order again. "I was nae looking where I was going."

"I need to find Éomer or Aragorn or Gandalf." She looked frantically around, not too sure which of the tents to find the leaders in, "I have some terrible news concerning Meriadoc."

"Wha- what's happened?" Gimli gasped, it seemed as if his own thoughts had spilled out during their collision, "I too have something to tell Gandalf about Merry. What is your news Lady Éowyn?"

Éowyn turned to Gimli as if noticing him properly for the first time, "Merry is gone! Drâmym and Ŭnomer went to rescue him, to cut him down if they could, but he was not there! I do not understand – there is no sense to it." 

"Ah yes!" Gimli actually brightened a little at this intelligence, "It fits perfectly! Now I understand Legolas' message – except…" The dwarf's face dropped as he suddenly realised the enormity of the larger picture, "…except, it means that Meriadoc is out of the frying pan and straight into the proverbial fire!"

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Merry was trying so hard to reach Legolas in his mind that he did not notice at first that he was being discussed, but gradually recognisable words started to filter into his semi-conscious state and the hobbit realised all the sounds he was understanding were either about food or about him. 

"_Snalumm grologag pushgrol_… meats…_laggup barrugsu …_ fruit… _obore torgulm taga grum… _bread and cheese_… magrun oru… _halflings eat?"

Merry wondered frantically if they were discussing whether to feed him or eat him? Or perhaps they were deciding on the virtues of hobbits as dragon fodder. Then the painful thought struck him that being eaten was perhaps a better fate than being taken to Sauron, which he knew was the actual plan. 

_"Lugrantian gooblu tak_… let it die of thirst or starve itself," The Mouth, for it was he who spoke, changed to the common tongue mid-sentence. "I expect it thinks we're going to throw it back to the wraith's steed, but there is a worse fate in store for it." The servants attending the Mouth of Sauron laughed dutifully. "Now get it out of here and keep it alive until it's called for."

Merry saw a hand snake under the table to grab his leg and did not struggle as he was dragged out. 

"Wait!" The Mouth, dressed all in black and seated at his dinner, held up a hand to Majdi Rann. "Bring it here." Majdi lifted Merry onto his feet and, holding his upper arm, marched him to his Master. "Here halfling, what do your kind eat?" The man held out a piece of pickled herring from his plate and waved it in Merry's face. Merry almost retched. He disliked fish at the best of times and right now he was battered and nauseous. When the beast had grabbed and flown off with him, he had vomited. Since then, nothing had gone into his stomach and raw fish was not going to make a promising start.

Merry tried to back away, shaking his head as he did. But Majdi had a firm hold on his arm and, although his feet moved, he did not. His lips moved and he tried to say **_'no'_** as the disgusting piece of food wafted in front of his face, but the word caught in his throat and no sound came. 

"Eat it!" The man grabbed hold of the hobbit's jaw and shoved the gobbet of food into his mouth. Merry did not swallow or even chew, he was frozen in movement as well as voice. "Give it some wine to wash it down." Another of the servants took a bottle of red wine and tipping the curly head back with one hand, held it to Merry's lips. As he poured the liquid into the hobbit's mouth most of it spilled out and ran down his chin and neck. But in spite of this Merry could not help but swallow the fish and a large quantity of alcohol. 

It did not stay down for long. As soon as the servant let go of his hair, Merry was sick, retching the food and wine back up and coughing in distress. The servant, who had actually been a little too close to the hobbit at the time, retaliated quickly, backhanding Merry across the face and knocking him backwards into Majdi. 

"Get it out!" The Mouth was not very happy with this incompetence, "Take it somewhere and feed it and clean this vomit from my floor before I make you eat it." The servant hurried to comply. "Keep it away from me – disgusting creature. Just be sure it does not die or you may have the pleasure of explaining why to the Lord Sauron Himself."

Majdi did not wait for further threats or promises of punishment. He half walked and half dragged Merry from the room and back along the passageway they had come before and pushed into General Phunnie's quarters. 

The orc had already been displaced by the Mouth of Sauron requiring his chambers, so he was not very pleased to see Majdi Rann with his prisoner. "What can I be a doing for you?" He asked, polite if not happy, after all, he was not stupid.

"Need to feed the halfling, make sure he doesn't die." Majdi Rann explained. Then, suddenly looking down, he realised what a dreadful state the little prisoner was in. The halfling was filthy dirty, even in the clothes they had dressed him in, his front was now vomit and wine stained and his face was grubby with his hair plastered down to his cheeks where the wine had soaked him. A livid bruise was joining the others already adorning his pale skin where the recent blow had landed. But more importantly, the small creature was clinging desperately to Majdi's cloak and silent with fear and shock.

Majdi bent down to the halfling's eye level, noting how glazed and vacant his blue eyes seemed, and took him by the shoulders. "Look at me, can you hear me? Don't be afraid. Answer me, can you hear me?"

Merry's mouth worked as if he would speak, but no words would pass his lips. He swayed a little in Majdi's grasp and tried to focus, but the hobbit was beyond the limits of his endurance and could only hang on to the man's cloak and gasp for breath.

"It's gone an' got itself stuporified." Phunnie was well versed in the symptoms of shock, even if he did not know the right words for it. "Gone an' got itself so worked up with frit and scardified, it don't know how to talk an' such no more."

Majdi would have to admit that he had probably handled traumatized prisoners before but had not really noticed or even cared much about their condition. However, this one was slightly different. For one thing, he had been charged to keep it alive at all costs, one cost he knew would be his own life if he failed, and for another this little creature seemed to be important for some reason. Not just as a hostage or a prize of some sort for his own Master, but it was obviously woven about with some kind of magic, the elvish rope it wore proved that, but also why was this insignificant, childlike creature of interest to the Great Lord Sauron? He would normally not even bother to so much as stamp on such an insect – but for some reason He had demanded that it be brought to Him. And, although there was no evidence for it, Majdi sensed that his own fate was tied up with this halfling in some strange way.

Majdi lifted Merry up and sat him upon Phunnie's table, "What's good for vomiting and stupor then, if you're such a knowledgeable healer." Although the question was dripping with sarcasm, the man genuinely wanted to know and Phunnie had already demonstrated that he knew what was wrong with the creature. 

"Try giving it some plain water," The orc suggested and handed Majdi his own bottle. "That's pretty clean – came from the spring up top, not out of a tank, that."

Majdi snatched the bottle and grabbed Merry's chin, but almost immediately he could hear the rope start to hum a little and an eerie grey light emanated from the hobbit as if in warning. "All right!" The man dropped his fierce grip and instead put his hand gently behind the hobbit's head and held the bottle to his lips, "Come on little one, take a drink. It's only water."

Merry felt as if his throat were constricting, but did manage to swallow several small mouthfuls of water, finally moving his head away when he thought he might throw up again. Then he sat still on the table where he had been put, looking fearfully from the orc to the man, no longer really understanding what was going on or what they wanted with him. The hobbit had been so brutalised by the treatment of the last day, since he had been carried off by the fell beast, that he was becoming traumatised and Phunnie was right in his assessment, Merry no longer knew or cared what was happening to him. His mind had ceased to take in what was going on, as it was unremittingly bad and becoming more and more impossible for him to deal with.

"Say something! What's your name?" Majdi was trying to remember if the little creature had actually spoken before or just squeaked in terror. "Do you understand plain language?" Perhaps that was the problem – maybe it did not speak the common tongue, it might be some sort of elf – the ears seemed right and the magic about it was definitely Elvish. "_Trenar esta ni***?"**_ Majdi spoke halting Sindarin but still there was no response, Merry stared at him dully.

_(*"tell name of you?")_

As Majdi started to move away to hand the water-bottle back to Phunnie, Merry grabbed hold of his flowing cloak, making the man turn sharply back. "Oh so you want to talk to me now do you?" He felt the wave of pity wash over him again. The little one was just trying to find someone or something to hold on to. "It's all right, I'll try and watch out for you. Now you have to pay me back and eat something."

"Here," Phunnie held out a piece of stale looking bread, "Give it this, 'bout the best we got at the moment."

Majdi took the crust and put it in Merry's hand and then lifted the unresponsive hand up to the hobbit's mouth. Merry did not react at first but then pulled his hand away, dropping the bread on the floor as he did so. Majdi sighed in exasperation, "You should eat; you need food." Merry just stared at the floor, his eyes having followed the hard bread to the flagstones where it had landed.

The man turned irritably to the orc General, "Clean it up a bit can you? Do something for those bruises and gashes. "I'll see if I can get it some decent grub from the Master." Majdi actually patted Merry on the head as he unwrapped the hobbit from his cloak. "You stay here and do as Phunnie tells you. I'll get you something good to eat,"

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Frodo felt sick. He put his hands up to his head, closed his eyes tightly and tried to take a deep breath just as he remembered Aunt Esmie telling him to do when he felt nauseous when he was young. But the air was foul and laden with ash and noxious fumes and made his stomach rebel even more. "Arrgghh!" Frodo groaned with the churning of his belly, "I feel so sick Sam, I wish there were something inside to get rid of."

"Here Mr Frodo," Sam held out the waterskin, "there's a drop left I think, enough to damp your lips at any rate."

Frodo half smiled his thanks and drained the last few precious drops. He knew it was no good to argue with Sam when he was offering him something which they both needed. Frodo knew the other would not take it and talking about it only wasted energy and made them both even more thirsty.

"Issss the hobbitses dry then?" A sibilant whisper made them jump and both their hearts sink, "Does they need clean water, my Precious?"

"What you doing back here?" Sam snarled at the irritating creature, "Be off or we'll give you to those men after all."

"Oh what does he think? The men are gone, gone, gone!" Gollum sidled over towards where Frodo was sitting on a flat rock and began to mutter as if to himself, although it was obviously aimed at the hobbits. "We watched thems go away, watched them for Master." He lowered his voice, "We saw what Master did, Master put It on – Master wore the Precious. Does he like it? Was it so special? How does Master feel now?" Frodo turned his back on the insidious voice, "Master wants to keep It now, we knows Master has to keep It now."

"Go away!" Frodo mumbled the words very quietly. It was as if he were convincing himself that Gollum's words were untrue.

"Go away?" The creature crawled around, giving Sam a wide berth, until he was in front of Frodo, "Nooo, Master understands poor Sméagol, he knows what we knows and we knows it too! No one owns the Precious, the Precious owns you. It won't let you throw Itself away!"

"You're talking nonsense Sméagol." Frodo refused to meet the creature's eyes, "You know I have to destroy It, before It destroys me the way It has you."

"Oho, destroys us does It?" Gollum shook his head exaggeratedly, "No It keeps us alive for ever and ever. All our peoples died a long, long time ago. But with the Precious we don't die – we goes on and on. Does Master want to go on and on? Like the elveses? They don't die – we get to be like the elveses!"

"You're nothing like an elf!" Sam was horrified at the suggestion, "Elves are noble and handsome, you're… you're a piece of… of… well something nasty."

"So we're nassty is we?" Gollum turned to snarl at Samwise, "Nassty's better than stupid! Yess it iss my Precious." He swung back on Frodo once more, "If Master wants to break the Precious, why does he sit here all the day? Why does he wait and wait and wait? What's it for Precious, eh? Whass it for?"

"Never you mind," Frodo did not want to have to deal with Gollum any longer, but he still could not raise his hand to kill him, "Just leave us alone Sméagol."

"Something's wrong, Sméagol knows it." The relentless voice had sunk to a low sibilant hiss, "The Precious is wrong! We can tell! What did Master do to the Precious?"

"What do you mean?" Frodo had been bored with the pleas not to hurt the Ring, but this was something different. What had Gollum noticed? "There's nothing different about the Precious."

"Oh but we knows there is." Sméagol crept a little nearer holding out his hand as if he would touch Frodo, "Master wore It, but we could still see him. Why was that? Eh? The Precious is fading, we knows It. Don't let It fade Master. Quickly, takes It away from here – quickly!"

"What do you know about that?" Sam retorted a little too quickly and rather too angrily.

"Hush Sam!" Frodo did not want to give away more than necessary to this insidious creature.

"Fat hobbit knows as well, it's true!" Gollum grinned in triumph. "Whass happening to the Precious? Sméagol knows too – Sméagol knows lots of things." He began to count on his fingers, "Sméagol can see Master when he has the Precious on his finger. Sméagol wonders why the hobbits sit here and not go up the Mountain to break the Precious. Sméagol can feel some of the Precious gone away?" Gollum himself looked up in surprise at this last, as if the revelation had taken him unawares. "It is trying to escape! Escape from Master!" He caught hold of Frodo now and shook his arm frantically. "Where did the Precious go Master? We needs to know!"

"Get off me!" Frodo pulled his arm free, "It's none of your concern, now leave me alone!"

"You heard him!" Sam advanced menacingly, sword in hand, "Be off and leave us be!"

But Gollum was not listening to Sam or to Frodo. As he had grabbed Frodo's arm he had touched a rift – not one that could be seen – but a mental rift where the Ring had leaked Its strength from Frodo to Pippin. In that moment when Gandalf's white light had enabled the drain of energy from the One Ring to its newly made twin, the energy had also created a channel that had still not closed. And in that emotion-laden moment, when Gollum had reached for Frodo, he had touched it!

Had it been any other being, probably nothing would have happened. But as it was the one creature in Middle-earth that desired the Ring perhaps as much, if not more, than Sauron Himself, the result was like a bolt of lightening. 

Gollum gazed with awe at his fingers that had held Frodo's arm seconds before, "Master knows where the Precious is! Sméagol can feel inside Master's head!" He looked up in wonder and delight and began to dance around with joy. "We sees what Master sees! We knows what Master thinks! Ha-he-ha-ha-ha, Sméagol is so clever! We sees it all!" 

Frodo and Sam looked at each other with horror and Frodo clamped his hands to his head as if he would protect what thoughts were his. The idea of this creature being able to view his innermost thoughts and memories was horrific. To mindspeak with Pippin was one thing but this was too intrusive to bear. Why had it happened? Frodo could only imagine with dismay that he had somehow become linked to Gollum, not through innate closeness as with his kin, but through the Ring itself!

Sam collected himself first and stood before the jubilant creature, his arms akimbo, his face set stern, "What do you know? I don't believe you, come on tell us what you know."

"Is the other hobbit!" Gollum grinned up at Sam in smug triumph, "Is the little, little one, the one that didn't see or hear. He has It! The Precious is going to him. Clever Precious found a way out. Found a way to the little hobbit to stop Master breaking Itself!"

"Nooo!" Frodo could not help himself as he cried out in anguish. "Not that, please no!" He flung himself down on the rock and pulled his arms over his head as if to stop the intrusion. But it was too late, he could now feel Gollum's thoughts probing at his. It was insidious, all the jealousy, rage, hate and evil, selfish thoughts seemed to rush through his brain and overwhelm him with their intensity.

"Thass why they wait!" Gollum's eyes shot wider than ever as he managed to decipher the one piece of information he was missing from the puzzle. "That's why the silly hobbitses sit here! They's waiting for the little one! They's waiting for The Pippin! It's The Pippin where the Precious hides!"

"Why you…" Sam raised his arm to strike, not really knowing what good it would do but his anger getting the better of him.

"No Sam," Frodo seemed to see what was happening through Gollum's eyes, "Don't kill him!" He lifted his head up from his arms and whispered in awe, "He can't help what he is – it's not his fault."

"No don't let him come here!" Gollum's look of triumph suddenly left his face. "Don't let The Pippin come! He wants to break the Precious too. Thass why the hobbits wait, so they can break all the Precious together!" The creature slithered away from Sam's reach, moving away from both the hobbits. "But we can wait too! Maybe we can find The Pippin first! Got to stop him. Sméagol can find him. Sméagol is good at finding things, especially where the Precious is! We will find The Pippin and the Precious." He backed further away from Frodo and Sam, clambering over several rocks, then turned and ran on all fours, swiftly vanishing from sight.  

"Well he's gone at last." Sam went to Frodo and bent to touch his master's arm, "Mr Frodo?"

"We should try to find him Sam," Frodo looked up at his friend in horror, "I can see into his mind too – he means to find Pip and kill him! We have to find him Sam!"

***********************************************************************************************************

"So you think that Merry has been cut down from the Black Gate and taken back to where he was before, in a cave-like room, and is waiting to be taken to Sauron?" Gandalf looked from Éowyn to Gimli and then sighed deeply. "Does Pippin know?"

"Yes, err… hrumph," Gimli half coughed in embarrassment, "We told him and were just about able to stop him from climbing up on Shadowfax and taking off." Gimli glanced at Éowyn.

"Yes, thanks to his orc!" Éowyn smiled at the memory. "Mr Smagnu seems to be quite an influence on Pippin."

"Well he was holding him by the britches," Gimli pointed out, "four feet off the ground."

"I'm glad to see someone is able to keep young Pippin in order," Aragorn smiled. "Perhaps we should keep Captain Smagnu on full time as a hobbit minder."

"I never thought I'd say it," Gandalf agreed, "but I can't think of anyone better to send him off to Mordor with. But what to do about Merry – now that is a problem."

"And not the only one we have yet to deal with," Faramir entered the tent so silently that Éowyn jumped to hear his voice suddenly behind her ear. "I wondered where you were Milady Éowyn," Faramir shot a puzzled look at Gimli, "I did not think you might be keeping Master Dwarf company."

"We ran into each other," Éowyn bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I was explaining to Gandalf about Merry's disappearance and now I find that Gimli knows he has been taken down and they intend to deliver him to Sauron."

"Gimli?" Faramir frowned, "How does a dwarf come by such intelligence?"

"I read it in the elf's mind." Gimli could not help smirking a little. "We were in mental contact."

"Really?" Faramir felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle, "Are you also in touch with the Lady Éowyn? Perhaps this conversation could be conducted in silence. Do you wish me to leave?"

"Captain Faramir," Éowyn too felt a slight rush of frustration. "Gimli is not in mind contact with me, I am but a novice. But he did have important information, now perhaps we should concern ourselves with rescuing Merry."

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," Gandalf interjected. "To rescue Merry now would jeopardise all our plans, such as they are."

"You not can't say that!" Pippin had picked that moment to arrive with Smagnu. "You not can't just leave My Merry go taked he at Sauron!"

"Pippin has a point," Aragorn said surprisingly, "What if the Dark Lord is able to discern all He needs to know from Merry?"

"What We sayed! Exacterly!" Pippin folded his arms across his chest in triumph. "We knows what it like to be at Dark Lord! Pippin not be sayed no things, not didn't, but it onerly be We too scarded and My Merry not sayed no things first time cause he got not thinks in he head!"

"There is no help for that," Gandalf decided, "You will just have to be quick Pippin and get to Mount Doom before that can happen. Once the…" He paused seeing Smagnu standing behind Pippin like some ominous personal guard, "…once your mission is complete the problem should be resolved." 

Gandalf did not explain to Pippin, or anyone else present, that he suspected that once the Ring was destroyed, in both Its parts, the tower of Barad-dûr would be rent asunder and crumble into its foundations leaving none alive. It was a grievous thought for the elderly wizard who had been as a Grandsire to these young hobbits, but it was necessary to keep it and bear it alone. The one hope that he held in his heart was that his old friend Gwaihir and his kin might arrive in time to rescue all of the hobbits, but, although he had sent word, there was no certainty of this.

"I have a question?" Smagnu cleared his throat, "When do we leave?"

"How are the preparations?" Gandalf pulled his attention back to the immediate problems. "Is Shadowfax content with the arrangements?"

"Éomer nodded, "We have clad him with a caparison of a plain hue, he should be far less conspicuous and he was exceedingly patient with the adornment."

"Yes We Shadowfax go good now." Pippin added unnecessarily. "But what if they black Nazgûllerings come and look for We Pippin? What and they see We?"

"I have thought of that too," Gandalf agreed, "I was thinking of a diversion, at least to draw their immediate attention away from you and your orc." 

Gandalf and Aragorn had discerned, during a lengthy interrogation of Smagnu, that there was, as the wizard suspected, a gate through which messengers could enter without the need to open the main gate. It was, according to the Uruk, heavily guarded but he had assured them he would have no difficulty gaining access.

"Will there be enough time?" Aragorn looked through the tent flaps to the sun, "Five hours of our 24 are spent already and Pippin still has to get all the way to the volcano."

"There will be time for this," Gandalf assured him. "They will not be aware that I know Merry is gone, so, while Pippin and his orc go through the postern gate, I shall set out to retrieve Meriadoc from the Black Gate – and I won't be going alone."

"But those were their terms," Éomer pointed out. "That you must come alone or they kill him."

"Ah yes," Gandalf agreed, "but I know that he is not there and that they do not intend to kill him out of hand."

"Who shall you take with you?" Gimli asked in surprise. "One of us?"

"No indeed," the wizard smiled, "not unless you can shrink yourself to hobbit size. I shall be taking Pippin."

"But We Pippin got go with Smagnude!" Pippin frowned in puzzlement. "Oh you not really gone take We Pippin, you just go sayering that Gandalf!"

"Exactly," Gandalf was pleased the hobbit had so quickly caught on. "I need to take someone who can pass for Pippin, that way the Nazgûl will not be looking for him elsewhere."

"But there are no other hobbits." Éomer said as if they were a commodity that had been expended.

"No indeed," Gandalf looked at Smagnu, "But we have some small orcs, dressed up in Pippin's clothing and with his helm, I'm sure one of them could pass for our young friend. Can you suggest a reliable soldier who is small enough Captain?"

Smagnu did not hesitate, "Sniggin or Bloggin would be your orcs, Mr Wizard, I'd say Bloggin for choice as he is quietest, but they will do as I bid and they are both about the size of Little Pip."

"Then fetch me Sniggin or Bloggin with due haste," Gandalf thought for a moment, "I suppose we had better find you something else to wear Peregrin Took as I shall be needing your clothes."

"You bettered do that," Pippin nodded vigorously, "We not gone go to Mordors in We nothings on!"

***********************************************************************************************************

It only took half an hour, but at the end of it Pippin was clothed in some ill-fitting mail atop his own shirt and the dwarf's elven cloak, hastily hemmed by Gimli himself. Much to the relief of both Pippin and Bloggin, they were allowed to keep their own britches.

Bloggin felt very important and grand wearing the bright chain mail and uniform with the white tree on the front and the shiny helm. He was a little disappointed that these strange big men had insisted he scrub the blue off his face and leave his ladle behind, but Sniggin had promised to take good care of it for him and paint him again as soon as he got back.

It was agreed that Pippin and Smagnu would go in through the small, but heavily guarded, postern gate shortly before Gandalf would approach the Black Gate and demand to know where Merry was. "With fortune on our side, the Nazgûl will be immediately attracted to my presence and will not take notice of Pippin and his orc entering." Gandalf turned to the nervous little Bloggin. "Come erm, what is your name? Boggan?"

"B-Bloggin, S-Sir," The little orc look nervously up from Smagnu to Gandalf, "I be Bloggin."

"Well at least your grammar is about as bad as Peregrin's," Gandalf added under his breath, "although I suspect your smell is much worse."

Windfola, as Éomer had predicted, would not tolerate Bloggin to be lifted up onto his back alone. It was only once Gandalf was astride the horse, and with Drâmym and Ŭnomer holding the beast's headstall firmly, that they were able to seat the little orc ahead of the wizard, albeit with much padding and a liberal application of a small bottle of fragrance which Éowyn surprisingly had in her pack. Faramir raised his eyebrows at this offering, wondering just who the Lady had been planning to impress in battle with her delicate perfume and never supposing for a second that it might be him.

"Little Pip should be tied up," Smagnu pointed out. "I wouldn't lead him on a horse as a prisoner without chains or something like."

"Very well." Aragorn nodded to Drâmym, who produced a length of rope and handed it to Smagnu so that he could tie the hobbit orc-fashion. 

"Don't go makering it too tightly on We Littlel Pip, Smag!" the hobbit protested, "We may needs to escerape… escrape…" Pippin squeezed his eyes shut with concentration, "Escaped at you sometimes!"

"Don't you worry Little Pip," Smagnu assured him as he bound the hobbit's wrists together, "I'll keep you as safe as you can be in there." He took another length of rope from Drâmym and looped it around Pippin's neck as a noose or lead. "There, that's the way it should look."

"You understand what you must do?" Even as Éomer lifted the hobbit up onto Shadowfax, Gandalf checked one last time, although he had made both Smagnu and Pippin recite their instructions several times already.

"I take Little Pip through the postern gate into the orc army encampment," Smagnu repeated, "Telling them that I have an important prisoner that is to be taken to Barad-dûr. Then I go straight to Orodruin and leave Little Pip there and come back at once, making my escape back to you as best I can…" Smagnu looked at Pippin and shrugged, "…or not."

"Very well!" Gandalf harrumphed suspiciously as if he did not quite trust either of them completely, "be on your way then, I will follow with my diversion ten minutes after you leave, so do not dawdle. And…" he added as if an afterthought, although it was not, "do not entertain any notions of trying to rescue the other hobbit. I know Pippin would like you to, but there really is no time for such things and you will endanger the whole mission if you do. And Pippin… don't even begin to try and persuade Smagnu otherwise, do you understand me?"

Pippin nodded miserably, went to open his mouth, but closed it again and made no other reply.

"Go then and may fortune smile down upon you. Farewell Shadowfax, make haste and when your part is done, come safe away if you can." Gandalf nodded his head to the orc, "Our thanks go with you Captain Smagnu, your part in this endeavour will be remembered should we survive this war to honour you." 

Gandalf pulled Windfola over to towards Shadowfax until he could reach out and touch Pippin. Putting his hand on the hobbit's head he spoke quietly, "I know you will succeed Peregrin, you are a Took and worthy of the name. Try to do your best and if all else fails, and you do not know what to do, remember – follow your nose and do what feels right."

Pippin looked up and gave a weak smile now, certain that he had read a secret message in Gandalf's kindly words. "We will Gandalf, We Smagnude and Pippin do exacterly right things - promsis."

"Is it safe?" The wizard raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"'Tis," Pippin agreed putting his bound hands to his neck. "Pippin ready now Smag – We bettrer got goed."

"Take care of him," Gandalf was reluctant now to let the little hobbit go towards such danger, but there was naught else to do. "and fare you both well."

Smagnu walked forward, a lead rein in his hand, although he had been warned to make no pull on it as Shadowfax would merely follow him and the rein was for show only. As they left the camp, picking up speed as Smagnu began to run, Pippin looked back over his shoulder. Once they were out of sight of the group and just in sight of the Black Gate, Pippin leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to his 'captor'. "You knows Smag what We's got do? You do knows what Gandalf… what We wizard really meanderings Us to do?"

"Yes, Little Pip," Smagnu began to recite for the umpteenth time, "I take Little Pip through the postern gate into the orc army encampment," Smagnu repeated, " Telling them that I have an important prisoner that is to be taken to Barad-dûr. Then I go straight to Orodruin…"

"Stop We Smagnude!" Pippin demanded, "You go gets it just most rightly up to there, but you missered out littlel pieces!"

"No I didn't!" Smagnu was certain he had it by heart. He was an orc and good at taking orders. "Thass exactly what your wizard…"

"No Smag," Pippin sighed an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh, "You not listering at he proplerly! Firstly We got go rescue My Merry of course!"

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

***********************************************************************************************************

A/N: I got a bit sidetracked lately, squaddling with the Mithril Awards people. Waste of time really, because all Marigold and I wanted to say was, that people should bear in mind they are only awarded by a couple of people. Do not feel bad if your fic does not win or even get shortlisted, these things are very subjective and these awards are not even based on popular appeal. It is possible for a piece of work to be rejected based on ONE PERSON'S – the initial screener's - opinion. Personally I think that sucks – but then they think I suck. If you want to know more of what Marigold and I think, check out our LJ's, I won't bore you with it here.

The only thing I will say is that, to me, each and every review is like a treasured award and I value them more than mithril itself!

In other news, Marigold's Story Challenges are going great guns! These Challenges have given birth to around 150 fantastic hobbity stories so far, and you can read them on live journal at talechallenge01, talechallenge02, and talechallenge03, or get to them from Marigold's Recommendations Page. I can't put the link here, but if you do a Google search for Marigold's Recommendations it pops right up – one cog in her growing web empire! If you'd like to write a story for the Challenges, everyone is welcome, just write to her at MarigoldCotton@aol.com. The stories for Challenge 4 are due on Thursday, May 6th, and will be posted on Friday, May 7th.

Heddwch!

Llinos

Now to the good bit – Your comments and my dumb responses.

Dear Reader: I'm not saying it was your story. But it sure looked like it...  
Llinos: Damnation! What my story gets up to when I'm not watching…

Shirebound: And I do adore little bits like this: "and now you go make happery smilings at We!"  
Llinos: See – now you made happery smilings at Llinos

Freakish Lemon: "What about me ladle Cap'n? Is that a weapon?" Oh man... Probably the greatest orc quote in history.  
Llinos: What? Better than "Man Flesh!"

Skipping Stones: Hm...Phunnie? That wouldn't be the very same orc from the Moria Roleplay, would it?  
Llinos: Is that where he's been? Well he certainly gets around. Glad to know others are reading the Moria Roleplay (it's where I sneak off and write slash) There are quite a few new members there now though and lots of action and adventure. As well as Kookaburra (Sam) and Tasha (Pippin) in a non-slashy thread, Sandy K is now playing Eglantine, Pippinswolf is playing Esmeralda, Wadearturo is the hill rebel Pervinca and we've even got MarigoldG, my trusty beta, playing Saradoc. Come take a look – leave feedback – you know the routine. Oh and me? Well guess what, I play Merry and an Uruk-hai called Nagash – yes I know, typecast again!  
Skipping Stones: I'll just have to go finish that other illustration I drew for you.   
Llinos: Please Blayne, you can finish as many illos for me as you can – I love them. Did you see I've got one as my LJ icon now? Marigold is very jealous!

Breon Briarwood: Pippin heading into Mordor? Isn't there another way? Merry heading to Barad-Dur? How will he get away this time? What of Frodo and Sam? Are they just waiting at the foot of Mt. Doom the whole time or are they still climbing their way up? What of Gollum? Why do I ask so many questions?  
Llinos: Yes, No, Yes, Don't know, See above, Not any more, See above, Don't know

Zarquin: _(Comments not repeated to spare author's blushes).  
_Llinos_: (Blushes at compliments too nice to repeat)_  
Zarquin: I'd like to see Théoden's sister-daughter with him rather than Faramir, but then, that could just be me being weird.  
Llinos: Well I'd comment on that, but I'm scarcely in a position!

Samwise The Strong: How many good tortures are there for Merry? When are you going to torture Pippin again?  
Llinos: Hey! I don't torture anyone – I'm just telling what happened!

Hai Took: The only people we missed in this chapter was Frodo and Sam! I guess they may be having company soon.  
Llinos: Well I hope I made up for the omission this time. And, have you been reading my mind? Just wondering because, if so, what's going to happen next?

aelfgifu: My very first fan fic addiction!  
Llinos: But hopefully not your last!

Anso the Hobbit: please save my Merry soon!  
Llinos: Pippin's working on it – only don't let him catch you saying "My Merry" (I think Pippin thinks he's "His Merry") Thanks for the review Anso, it was very, good. I probably enjoy reading the reviews more than you enjoy reading the story.

redtoes: Bore da LLinos, Please don't stop writing this.  
Llinos: and Good day to you too! Dych chi yn siarad Cymraeg? If so you'll get the tinsey in-jokes in this story with some of the names, e.g. Dysgwr! Thanks for your kind words – I'll try not to stop writing this, well until it's finished, then I'll stop. Reviews like yours and everyone else's help a lot as I know I'm not just talking to myself.

sam (camilliatook@hotmail.com): all I could picture are the orcs running around in kilts with Billy!  
Llinos: Arrgghhh! No stop, please take that image away!

Pip4 : Gimli sounds funny.  
Llinos: You know I loved that you said that! It's as if you could hear him – which is what I was aiming for – oh imaginative and clever reader!

jeodo Brandybuck: Hurries you up with nextus chapterings!  
Llinos: Hahahahahaha! We got go fasterings and We can be goering.

MagicalRachel: If anyone tells you they hate your story and that you are a terrible author then they are jealous, lying or just plain stupid.  
Llinos: And can I tell them you said so and send them round to see you? I'm such a wimp! (_cringe, whimper)_

Lindelea: Blowing on fingers and touching the heart? Did you make that up or is it an actual superstition?  
Llinos: No – sorry I made it up – it's all lies!  
Lindelea: AArgh, Legolas has had the potion and is in no position to relay Merry's message, even if he hears it!  
Llinos: No – it's all right – Gimli got it – honestly (such a smart dwarf)

Lindelea: Majdi is quite an interesting character. Is he redeemable?  
Llinos: "Don't know – I don't know what's going to happen."*   
*_Meriadoc Brandybuck Return of the King_

Linnet Oldknowe : to make Legolas really come alive is a major achievement in my book  
Llinos: but it's getting kinda tricky now he can't see or speak.

Ptath: I hope Smagnu can get Pip in safely. Will they encounter Merry along the way and will it end up with all 4 hobbits at Mt. Doom? Will all the hobbits learn to mind-speak?  
Llinos: All right – I've said this before – put the plot down and step away carefully with brain in full view. Actually I don't really know what will happen but some things seem inevitable, but we'll see.

The Lauderdale: Oi, when do we get to find out what the heck "swquk" means?  
Llinos: Oh yes "swquk", the closest translation I can find is "rock" or "rocks" as in "_is amazingly cool and altogether fantastic_" So what we actually have the orcs saying here is "Smagnu rocks!" Well we always knew that anyway!

Scarlet Angel4: Where do you come up with your ideas for the mind languages?  
Llinos: In my mind :-)!  
Scarlet Angel4: *hint, hint* MR  
Llinos: Yes, yes – coming (You listering at We Scarlet Angel Kooks?)

Eldarin Queen: You had no Frodo and Sam in the chapter, why not?  
Llinos: Well they weren't doing anything. Big helping this time though.

Xena: it's almost like a chatroom!  
Llinos: yes – but imagine having to type like that on IM – no don't try it – you'll hurt yourself.

NekoHitori: i don't know how you manage to keep track of it all!  
Llinos: In a word, "Marigold".

FantasyFan: Oh LLinos, I'm so sorry you got flamed on LJ over Recaptured. - Faramir with too-human jealousy, weakness and self-doubt.  
Llinos: And I loved your encouraging words – thank you. And I adored the long review too – again thank you! Ah Faramir – what shall we do with him?

quazar: don't worry about what people say - p.s is pippin gonna get his speech back?  
Llinos: Thanks – Well he's got it back, just not in very good working order!

Me…. Again!: I'm not supposed to be on the computer right now... Shh!!  
Llinos: _(whispering) I won't say a word!_

Ailsa Maelone: *gives you cookies* - here's my lj:  
Llinos: Mmm thanks, (munches cookies, in spite of diet) Please friend me – I'll friend you right back. That goes for any other Recap fans!

meatball: Somebody is going to die!  
Llinos: Oh my goodness! Who? 

pipwise brandygin: I wonder what Gandalf would have said if he knew 120 chapters ago when he rescued Merry and Pip from Orthanc that he'd be sending a lame, half-mad Pip into Mordor with a new ring and only an Uruk for company.  
Llinos: Bless my Bark! There's a thought!

pipinheart: Gets better and better, great job.  
Llinos: Thanks – now there's a scary challenge.

Orange : I"M DONE I"M DONE! AIE! I FINALLY FINISHED!  
Llinos: No you're not – you're done when I'm done, now sit back down and read!

Pervy Hobbit Fancier: I CAUGHT UP! FINALLY! I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF!  
Llinos: Well done – it's been good having you along, reviewing as you go. Nice to see you here at last.

Sue (Tsclare@aol.com): I have just noticed I have a new chapter of Moria's Revenge to read.  
Llinos: Oh dear, is that a hint?

curly29: i am starting to get a bit bored now, so can u make the chapters a bit smaller, so i don't fall asleep.  
Llinos: I'm sorry, but everyone else seems to like the chapters long. I'm not sure how else to not bore you – I'm doing my best!

Bethany(Bratling456@hotmail.com): i love this story please hurry with the rest of it  
Llinos: Thanks – I'll try!

Elven: I worship you!  
Llinos: That's nice – thanks!

Baylor:  I am glad you took Merry off the Gate  
Llinos: Oh I had to, I was getting complaints from the neighbours.

Tawa bids you good day: Poor Legolas, having to interpret all the different speeches all by himself  
Llinos: Never thought about that – does it count as elf torture? Although he seems to take it pretty much in his stride.

pipinheart: I feel for merry, and wonder if pip will every learn to talk right again.  
Llinos: Ah my evil plan is working then!

Arte: Yay! So I'm finally caught up though!  
Llinos: Well done – another catcher upper. Welcome to chapter 126!  
Arte (Artuntaure228@hotmail.com): I realized it was 103 pages, and well, ink dursen't grow on trees,  
Llinos: I'm glad you didn't say paper dursen't grow on trees.  
Arte: you'll end up writing Sauron as being simply "misunderstood.  
Llinos: _(shuffles feet and mutters) _Well his Mum was really pushy and his Dad came out when he was 10.  
Arte: did Gandalf talk in bold, too?  
Llinos: Sometimes, but he adjusts the volume in deference to the hobbits.  
Arte: didn't it say there was a rumour there was elvish blood in Tooks somewhere?  
Llinos: Actually it is faery blood – it referred to Bilbo I think – he had Took blood.  
Arte: when Aragorn reset Legolas's arm, it said he cried out in pain or something. How could he do that?  
Llinos: No you're right! I misheard him. I thought it was Legolas, but obviously not, it couldn't have been. I think it was Pippin screaming and it just sounded like Legolas. _(Looks sheepish and slaps gold star on Arte – then smacks Marigold).(She really did smack me! Owww!! M.)  
_Arte: Fear me! *pokes a couple more times for effect.*  
Llinos: Ouch!

Marigold: Excuse me, but that's my job!

Arte: I still haven't added Smagnu to my interests.  
Llinos: Hurry then! Quick!  
Arte: BTW, what does swquk mean?  
Llinos: Ah I already did this one. 

Marigold (MarigoldCotton@aol.com): Snips very long review  
Llinos: I just love these long reviews so much, there is not much I can say except thanks for them and the beta-ing!


	35. Lies and Disguise

Lies and Disguise

Recaptured – Chapter 127

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Merry sat passively as rough orc hands gripped his face and rubbed a wet stinking cloth over his bruises. "No better'n a fuggin' wetnurse! Whass he fuggin' expects me ta do?" The orc rinsed the cloth out in a pail of filthy liquid and started again, sloshing the water over the hobbit's mouth and down the front of his shirt in an attempt to clean him up. "Bleedin' General I am – an' here I'm s'posed to be washin' stinkin' little Shire rats!" General Phunnie held Merry by the hair, turning his head from side to side to inspect his handiwork. "There – that'll do yer, now yer gonna eat summat?"

The orc picked the piece of stale bread up off the floor, sniffed at it, gnawed on it, frowned at it and banged it on the table to see if it would break. Never one to waste perfectly good food, Phunnie took a wooden bowl from his own precious store and poured a liberal dose of orc whiskey over the bread, sousing it thoroughly and poking it with his finger to make sure it was pliable. He then took a lump of the whiskey sodden bread in his fingers and shoved it in Merry's mouth. "Come on! You're s'posed to eat an' I get the blame if'n yer don't! So get it down yer gob!"

Merry almost choked on the bread. His stomach had just rejected a pickled herring and the ancient bread, reeking of foul orc liquor, was not really an improvement. He struggled against the intrusive, rough hands holding him still as the food was shoved down his throat and managed to wriggle out of Phunnie's grasp, to fall on the floor and crawl under the table.

Phunnie growled in exasperation and bent down to try and catch the small captive but, as he reached out to grab hold of it, a grey rope whipped across his hand cutting into even the tough orc skin. Phunnie withdrew his hand with a curse, "You stinking little rat! Cut me would yer?" He reached in and grabbed the hobbit by the foot, dragging him out and, holding him upside down at arm's length, aimed a kick at his head.

"Stop that!" Majdi Rann let fall the plate of cakes he was carrying and the china smashed to pieces on the stone flags. He did not even glance at the fragments, but strode forward and wrenched Merry from Phunnie's hold with a snarl, lifting the hobbit up the right way and setting him to sit on the table again. "What in Sauron's name do you think you're up to? I told you to take care of it, not beat the shit out of the thing.

Majdi Rann was not an impulsive man, it did not pay to be spontaneous in his position. Neither was he cursed with a soft heart, but he was not totally devoid of feeling either. He just found it judicious to exercise caution in his leniency with others. One man's pardon could spell out his own execution and rather the next man than he. But the halfling was another matter.

In spite of all that was dealt out to it, still it seemed to trust him. If he offered it any sort of comfort, it accepted it without hesitation. What sort of nature did this thing possess that, even after the rough treatment he had afforded it, it did not hold a grudge, even though it possessed some kind of elven magic that prevented him from being too rough. A captive man or orc would be cursing and spitting at him by now, that or cringing and begging, but this halfling creature did neither. It merely clung to him and sought shelter and comfort from him! Majdi Rann was finding it increasingly difficult to resist returning the little one's silent pleas for help.

He clouted Phunnie, knocking the orc out of the way and bent to pick the cakes up from the debris on the floor, putting them on the table, then stooped to look at the hobbit. He was glassy eyed still and looked on the verge of collapse. "Here try to eat this, it's good, it's cake – sweet, you'll like it." Majdi broke a piece of the golden coloured delicacy and put it in his own mouth, making noises of enjoyment to try and encourage the creature to eat. "Try a little – come on, you can do it." He spoke softly and tore off another morsel of cake putting it in the little one's hand.

Merry stared at the yellow sponge in his hand and then up at Majdi, as if trying to correlate the connection between the two. Eventually he put his hand to his mouth and nibbled nervously at the crumbling cake, this time actually managing to swallow a little and keep it down.

"That's good," Majdi encouraged him to take another piece and this time Merry managed to eat a half a little cake all to himself.

Phunnie snarled as he recovered from the blow, shaking his head at Majdi in disapproval. "It's bewitched that fugging thing!" He growled, "Summat not quite right about it! How'd it whip me 'cross the hand like that? Thass what I wanna know."

"Ah it did that, did it?" Majdi looked at Merry, his head enquiringly on one side. "That's its elvish magic. I don't know but I reckon that's what they want it for. Some elvish weapon they said."

"Don't fancy the job o' takin' it meself," Phunnie rubbed at his injured hand. "Don't usually bother 'bout such a cut, but this is really fugging painful."

"Yes well, you shouldn't have roughed it up so much." Majdi took the waterbottle again and put it in Merry's hands, carefully placing first one and then the other hand around the vessel and sighing as the hobbit just sat staring at the thing placed in his grasp. "You've probably gone and stupefied it even more. Look at it!"

"Begging yer pardon General." At that moment a fat faced orc knocked and opened the door, "There's a courier come fer the rat! Says 'e gotta pick up an 'obbit!"

Majdi was caught off guard. He knew the little creature would be sent for, that he had to be taken to the Black Tower – to the Lord Sauron, but he had not expected it so soon. Suddenly he realised it made little difference, the end result would be the same. Perhaps it would be better for the halfling not to know what was going on, kinder that way.

Majdi had owned a cat once, many, many long years ago. It's dam had lived in the barn where it kept the vermin at bay and Majdi had watched her nursing her kindle and noticing over a couple of days that a tiny kitten was not getting any milk. It was too small to fight and the less it got, the weaker it became.

He had picked it up, intending to wring its neck as it was obviously going to die sooner or later. But something in the warm softness of the creature stayed his hand. He lifted it up and looked closely at the pathetic creature. It fitted neatly inside his palm and, away from the jostling of her brothers and sisters, nestled there as if it were an island of safety and respite.

Majdi had snorted in derision at his own feelings, but then allowed them to have rein and tucked the animal into his pocket.

He had fed it milk from a spoon and then scraps from his plate and the little one had thrived, growing into a lean, sinewy cat that was the terror of the house mice but still liked to curl up in her master's lap and purr sensuously.

Majdi had grown to love his cat.

With a jolt the man was brought back to the present. He looked at the bedraggled hobbit and realised that he reminded him of his cat. It was as if the vulnerability of the defenceless creature had touched him in the same way. And now he had to give it to the Lord Sauron's courier, who was most likely going to take it to be tortured and put to death.

But there was little he could do here and now. Majdi spoke through gritted teeth, "Tell the courier to wait, he can have it in a while. We have to feed it first, or else it might die."

"I'll tell 'im!" The orc stomped out of the room and they could hear him muttering and cursing his way down the corridor.

"Listen, little thing." Majdi bent down, his face only inches away from Merry's, whispering so that Phunnie could not catch his words. "They're going to take you in a while. A courier is taking you from here to another place." He held Merry's arms and shook him a little, "do you understand?" Majdi waited until finally the frightened halfling gave a small nod. "Don't be afraid and don't fight, just do as you're told. I will come after you. I think there is only one courier and I have the edge of surprise. I will rescue you – you'll be all right."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"You don't have to sit quite so still," Gandalf could feel the rigid terror in the little orc that sat before him. "Besides, it's unrealistic. The hobbit that usually occupies this place would be squirming around like a fish on a hook by now."

"Yessir, Lord-Cap'n-Master-Wizard Sir," Bloggin was in such fearful awe of his current assignment and boss he did not dare speak unless he was spoken to, nor, even after Gandalf's suggestion that he relax, did he dare to move even slightly. Orcs, uruks, trolls, even fell beasts did not daunt him too much, but a White Wizard to Bloggin was more terrifying than a Nazgûl.

"You may call me Gandalf, or Sir," the wizard suggested in a kindly tone, "I liked your title but it's a trifle cumbersome."

"Yessir," Bloggin was even more nervous at the suggestion. He had tried to be the politest he could be and got it wrong. He was not given to making conversation, usually leaving that kind of thing to Sniggin, but here, bereft of brother, he would have to make an effort. "Does I stinks better now Sir?"

"A little," Gandalf smiled at the ingenuous remark, "although I'm not sure that the particular fragrance Lady Éowyn kindly donated is really your bouquet. Not quite orcish enough, eh?"

"I dursent knows 'bout that Sir Wizard Sir," Bloggin had a feeling he was being made fun of, he wasn't certain but he had his own method of coping with such things. "S'makin' me feels somewhat sick, Sir, like I needs to vomit, beggin' yer pardon Sir."

"Don't you dare!" Gandalf said hurriedly, then realised that perhaps he was being given a taste of his own wit. "You try not to vomit." He said with his earlier lightness, "and I shall try not to tease you about your odour."

Bloggin actually managed a small snort of amusement, which from the orc sounded more like a dying frog, but Gandalf smiled to hear it. He needed this benighted little creature to relax if it was to be convincing as Pippin before the Black Gate.

As they drew near Gandalf pulled his cloak a little further around Bloggin, the way he did with Pippin if danger was near. The little orc shuddered and the wizard could feel him trembling with distaste at the enclosing garment. "Do not fear this covering," Gandalf reassured him, "it will guard you from the Nazgûl."

"But aren't you gonna feed me to 'em?" Bloggin asked with surprise. "I thoughts that was what I was fer? In case they's got too close an all?"

"I don't know what you were told by your Captain," Gandalf frowned. He wasn't sure that anyone had actually told the little orc anything, "but I am not in the habit of feeding small smelly creatures or anything else to the Dark Lord's minions." Gandalf paused, wondering if he was being understood, "No I'm not going to feed you to the Nazgûl or anything else."

"Didn't yer feed the 'obbit to the Nazgûls?" Bloggin, always having an ear for rumours, half-truths and general gossip had gleaned the information about what had happened to Merry. "I thought thass what we was doing, 'cause yer changed yer mind and wanted 'im back agin."

"I did not feed Meriadoc to the Nazgûl and I don't expect to rescue him now." Gandalf wondered if this little orc had been told anything, "No Boggin, we are creating a diversion to enable Peregrin and your Captain to… well never you mind what they're doing. We are creating a diversion for them, that's all you need to know. That and I'll take the best care I can of you."

Bloggin's jaw fell open and he hardly knew how to respond to this information. A wizard would take best care of him! "Thank 'ee Sir," Bloggin didn't even bother to correct being called 'Boggin', "Thass powerful kind o' yer. Just like Cap'n Smagnu."

"I'm not sure if that is a compliment," Gandalf had never been compared with an Uruk-hai before, "but I suppose it says something about your Captain at least." If he were honest, the wizard himself was considerably bemused at Pippin's total trust of this orc and he had not made clear in his own mind yet whether the Uruk was an exception or if the little Took had actually caused the beast's reformation, but whatever the reason he had felt confident in the hobbit's opinion.

Now, as they waited before the Black Gate, the light was such that Gandalf was able to see in the distance Smagnu and Pippin approaching the postern gate on the far western side. He doubted that his own presence had gone undetected, but he needed to make certain of it.

"Come forth!" His deep stentorian tone echoed across the Morannon, "I have come to accept your terms for the release of the halfling. Where is he?"

Bloggin discovered that he was holding his breath and biting his lip, a little trickle of black orc blood ran down his chin and he wiped the back of his hand across his face and licked it.

"Keep still now Boggin," Gandalf warned quietly, "we don't want them to see what you really are." The little orc froze into stillness once more and the wizard suddenly missed the indignant retort he would probably have received from the hobbit who was usually in that position.

Minutes passed. Nothing happened. In the far distance Gandalf could no longer see any sign of Shadowfax and his passenger and the quiet was eerie.

Suddenly a voice called out from the summit of the Gate. "You have broken the terms of the treaty wizard. You were charged to come alone."

"Where is the halfling? Would you break your own terms?" Gandalf knew he had very little with which to bargain, but then he was not expecting them to deliver Merry. "Bring the halfling forth at once!"

"W-wizard Sir – look!" Bloggin could not stop from pointing, although Gandalf quickly pushed the orc's arm down and his head. Above the Gate three hideous winged creatures flew and seated on each was a Nazgûl.

Gandalf knew they would be targeting the little orc, so he drew his cloak further around the creature, almost forgetting for a moment that it was not Pippin. "Be still and do not look up. We don't want them to know your true identity."

To turn at that moment would have resulted in a chase, which the two would probably lose. It was doubtful that Windfola could outrun the flying Nazgûl and in retreat the wizard would have difficulty defending himself and his passenger. Also it was not his intention to escape quickly, but rather to draw attention away from the real Pippin.

Encompassing a wide area, he levelled his staff at the sky and ordered forth the flame of Anor. A mighty bolt leapt from the rod and lit the clouds with its luminescence. The Nazgûl seemed to strike against the white beam but could make no progress through it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Turning to the orcs about him the Mouth of Sauron snarled in anger, "Where is your raiding party? Are there forces that are ready or must I go out to capture the wizard's halfling myself?"

"Begging your pardon, Master," Major Spicku recklessly stepped forward, "But they are already down there, it's just that they're too afeared of the Nazgûl theyselves! Them and the wizard. They dursen't go near neither of 'em while they are a'fighting."

"Useless scum!" The Mouth was angry enough at having been called from his meal to observe the approach of the White Wizard, he had half contemplated hanging the halfling over the battlements again to encourage the Maia to be reckless in his attempt to rescue the rat and thereby perhaps let his guard down. But it mattered not, the most important detail was that he had brought the other halfling with him, as anticipated. This was the one with the Ring, he was certain. All effort must now go into defeating this wizard, and taking the halfling.

"Have they been told to take the halfling alive?" The Mouth had already issued this order but needed to be certain. "and do they know I'll give an extra year's ration to the orc that can bring him in?"

"Yes Master," Spicku confirmed, "and they knows not to touch or spoil it nohow – just fetch it and keep it safe. They just won't go up against that there wizard, not while the Nazgûl is there an all!"

"Then I must deal with the filthy wizard scum myself!" The Mouth had no powers of his own to wield, he was but a man. But his Master wanted this prize and His servant knew well enough the ends to which He would go to gain it. The man closed his eyes as he leaned out across the battlements. His arms were stretched wide, palms forward, reaching out in the direction of the battle below. Above him the Nazgûl wheeled and screeched sending waves of terror through all that heard them, barring only the wizard and himself. He emptied his mind, save for the one thought that reached out to his great Master. _'It is here – the halfling that has It is guarded by the White Wizard! – Defeat him now and take the halfling, then It is Yours my Lord!_'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"We have to find him Sam!" Frodo began hurriedly collecting together the few supplies they had left, a waterbottle, a few scraps of lembas, the cloak he had been lying on. "He's already got a good start – hurry!"

"But Mr Frodo, what about Pippin?" Sam started to brush around where they'd been sitting with a handful of dead twigs, trying to cover up the evidence of their presence. "Won't we miss him if he comes this way? And that's what we're waiting for."

"I know Sam," Frodo went to sling the little bundle on his back, but Sam stayed his hand and took it upon his own shoulder. Frodo was weary beyond measure, but the fear of everything failing now had spurred adrenaline, still he let Sam take the pack, as was his wont. "But things have changed." Frodo said desperately, "Gollum is looking for Pippin and we have to stop him finding him."

"What makes you think he'll find him before we do?" Sam was very worried at this change in plan. Frodo had seemed so exhausted before, but now he seemed almost possessed.

"Because he's looking for him," Frodo explained, "whereas, we're just sitting here waiting for him and there's another reason…"

"Yes?" Sam only waited a moment before he realised what it was. "Are you still… still what is it? In his mind?"

"Yes Sam," Frodo put his hand to his head as if it hurt. "I can see his intentions, I know what he plans."

"But what if he knows you're coming? What if he can see you back?" Sam asked, "I don't like the sound of it Mr Frodo, anything might happen."

"Sam," Frodo managed a weak smile, "after all that's gone before, it hardly matters now and besides, we don't want anything to happen to Pippin now do we?"

"No of course not," Sam began to follow Frodo down the rocks in the direction that Gollum had taken off. "In any case, I suppose we have to make sure that Pippin makes it to Mount Doom too, with his part of the Ring and all, thought it's a queer business that." Then after a moment, "When Gollum's in your mind, Mr Frodo, is it the same as when Mr Merry was talking to me and when you heard young Pippin?"

"No Sam," Frodo frowned as he considered this. He stood still for a moment, his fingers touching his brow as if that would help him to analyse the sensation. "It's more like pictures in my head. When I heard Pippin, it was as if I could hear him speaking, but with this it's as if I just know what Gollum plans. I don't hear individual thoughts, just a general feeling of what he wants and what he will do to get it."

"And he can see the same way into your mind?" Sam was growing even more concerned by the minute for Frodo's sanity. "Does he know you're – that we're – following him?"

"Yes, Sam, he does I'm afraid." Frodo turned to clasp his faithful companion's shoulder. "So now you not only have to make sure I don't hurt Pip, you have to make sure Gollum doesn't hurt him either. I'm afraid poor Pip is collecting more danger about him than he might ever have dreamed."

"Well he's certainly coming to the right place for it." Sam agreed hefting the little bundle higher on his shoulder and trudging after Frodo as fast as he could, muttering under his breath, "and maybe only old Sam to save him, I'm glad I'm not Mr Peregrin Took, Esquire, that's for certain."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gandalf suddenly felt a jolt of stress. The Nazgûl were failing to force their way through his shielding light, but then something changed! The wizard was aware of a crushing pressure, but it was not physical, nor was it caused by the wheeling, screeching enemies above. It was in his mind! The force began to crush his senses, filtering through his thoughts like a malicious flood of filth, creeping up into his consciousness and spilling over into his concentration like a rising deluge over a weatherworn dyke.

"No! It is not time – I should not face this conflict, it was not meant to be! Get back! Leave me!" He cried out, his voice sounding like one in great torment and angry because of it. Terrified, Bloggin hung tightly to the saddle as the wizard thrashed around, as if he fought with an unseen enemy. Windfola, nervous already at the presence of the Nazgûl, shrieked in fear as Gandalf wrenched on the reins, trying to pull the horse around too quickly in his desperation to quit this place. He knew that he might outrun the Nazgûl but the wizard knew that he could not tolerate this direct assault upon his mind by Sauron.

Windfola whinnied again and, in panic, rose up on his hind legs. Gandalf fell, his body already weakened by the strains of using his energy to keep the enemy in his head at bay. As he crashed to the ground a corner of his mind greeted the defeat with a grim satisfaction that his misdirection had worked. His active thoughts buried the secret well and even as he was aware of Sauron leaving his mind, the wizard kept hidden the knowledge that before him rode no Ring-bearer but a small insignificant member of His own army.

The elderly body crumpled on the rocks and the grey eyes fluttered closed. Windfola's great hooves came thundering down but, even in his panic, he did not touch a hair of the wizard's head. Bloggin still clung tenaciously to the saddle wondering what he should do. If he tried to climb down and revive the wizard, would the horse run off? If he stayed where he was, would the horse run off anyway with him still on board? Which was worse? Bloggin wished with all his heart that Sniggin were here to ask.

The Nazgûl vanished over the battlements and their terrible cries were at least silenced. What happened next was not what Bloggin had expected at all. He had thought perhaps the fell beasts might seize and devour him and had been extremely relieved when they left without so much as attempting a mouthful. But then three small bands of orcs were converging upon him as if from nowhere. Certain he had not seen the great Gates open, so they must have already been on this side, Bloggin looked around for escape but could see no route. The wizard still lay lifeless on the ground and he could only cling to the horse's saddle as the thirty or so orcs bore down on him, and him with not so much as a ladle for defence.

Bloggin realised his best protection was to continue with the charade he had been cast into. He pulled his helm further down over his face and hunched into his overlarge clothing. The cloak covered much of his face and he kept his eyes cast down upon the saddle.

The first group to reach him were a band of Uruk's and the leader grabbed Windfola's dangling reins. The horse protested and reared backwards, but he was surrounded by the creatures and eventually capitulated into being led forward by the orc. They looked at the wizard with disdain and a couple of them even aimed a kick at the white-haired head. But they were too excited with their prize and could see the convergence of the other two bands close by. With whoops and cheers they harried Windfola along with his precious burden. As soon as the other groups of orcs saw the prisoner was taken they followed on, taking no further interest in the wizard lying prone on the rocky ground.

The little orc tried to sit still, remembered not to speak and kept his head as far down as he could. He wondered frantically how long it would be before they discovered what it was they had captured and wondered if there was a small chance that they wouldn't be too disappointed! _'Nohow,'_ Bloggin thought dismally, _'that don't seem likely_.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Pippin and Smagnu had seen and heard the Nazgûl fly over the Gate and circle around where they both knew Gandalf would be creating his diversion. "You think they go see We?" Pippin asked anxiously. "Or they more of intertrestering at Gandalf?"

"If it were Number One I'd think so." Smagnu pacing alongside Shadowfax was not even out of breath, "but I heard he got seen off a while back."

"Yes did," Pippin confirmed, "it was My Mer, he and Lady Éow they go make he goned! And We Pippin helpeded too as well!"

"What?" Smagnu thought he was understanding Little Pip better but that sounded wrong, "Are you telling me that New Little Pip and a female fought and defeated the Witch King of Angmar?"

"It go be he and We did all of it." Pippin said proudly. "Well it mostly My Mer and Lady Éow, and We thinked My Mer go dead after-little-wards

"Well that's very good – I think." Smagnu was not too sure how much of what Little Pip said to take at his word. He did make some amazing claims but, then again, none of them had ever been proved untrue. Perhaps he had better just concentrate on the practical side of things – that was what he was good at. "So how are we going to rescue New Little Pip? You _are_ sure that's what the wizard meant?"

"Oh yes!" Pippin said blithely, "He just not got to sayed no things like that but We does knows what he meanded."

"We does – erm we do?"

"Not we Smagnude!" Pippin managed his exasperated tone, even whilst jogging up and down on Shadowfax and calling to Smagnu so he could hear. "We Pippin knows what Gandalf meanded – We not expectoring We Smagnude to knowed he as well. It go be bested just let We Pippin do plans for get My Merry."

"Well I hope you have a good plan now," Smagnu indicated behind them. "Seems the enemy is on this side of the Gate – and a lot of them."

"Least those Nazergûls gone go way now." Pippin had been very worried by their presence, fearing they might spot him at any moment. "Can We going any more fasterer Smag?"

"You just hold tight, Little Pip." Smagnu bent his head and surged forward towards the now visible entrance. Behind them about thirty Uruks were making good speed and were headed straight for them, although it could just be that they too were headed for the side door. Nevertheless, Smagnu didn't like the look of them. They'd as likely take Little Pip for themselves and claim they had captured him given half a chance. He needed to make it to the postern gate before they could do that.

Pippin hung on tightly as Smagnu picked up speed and Shadowfax matched it easily as they raced the final two furlongs.

The side door was a wide, black, iron portcullis through which could be seen two burly trolls, a skeletal faced orc and a large Uruk, almost as big as Smagnu himself. Smagnu had expected to have to give account of himself and do some fancy talking to get them to open up the entrance, but as soon as they saw his approach, the trolls began winding up the capstan that lifted the portcullis. Without pausing, Smagnu ran through with Shadowfax hard on his heels, appearing as if the orc led him.

They had to halt then as there was a second, smaller gate, which had remained closed. The burly Uruk gave a sneering laugh, "See yer got it then! You arter the prize is yer? A fugging year's rations can't be bad!"

"Yeah an it's mine jest me own – see!" Smagnu would not have shared such a prize at the best of times, but certainly not now, although not for the reason the other orc thought. "Yer keeps yer grubby 'ands offen it!"

"No use 'avin' a go at me!" The burly one replied, "I ain't authorised to tek it anyhow – nor ter give yer the prize. Yer'd best get on to the Mouth – he'll be waitin for it – jest yer keeps it safe an' all."

"Well open this bleedin' gate an' I will." Smagnu was not sure whether Little Pip was working some kind of magic and this was part of his plan or if this was all just extremely fortunate, but things were going very well – these orcs seemed to be expecting him.

"Yeah yer don't want them others to catch up!" The skeletal orc opened up and Smagnu trotted through. "They'd 'ave it orf yer soon as lookitcher!"

Shadowfax pawed at the ground and snorted his disapproval, but eventually, as Pippin tightened his hold on the white mane and patted with his bound hands, the Lord of the Mearas capitulated and walked into the realm of Mordor.

"'Ere! Just a bit!" Burly called after them, "yer goin' the wrong way! The Aitch Que is h'over dere! Is yer gonna tek the other imp 'n all?"

"Yeah I got me orders!" Smagnu looked enquiringly up at Pippin as they changed direction moving to the left flank of the wall, wondering if this too were part of his plan. "Where's it at?"

"Yer goes right to th' end an' it's the big door – yer needs ta see General Phunnie."

"Cheers," Smagnu called back "thass good of yer."

"Good of me?" The burly orc muttered to himself. It wasn't normal to have things like that said, especially by another orc. "Still," Burly mused to his companion and the trolls, "he must be pleased with hisself – gettin' the imp first – 'e must've been right near the wizard an' all!"

The others nodded sagely and prepared to let the rest of the raiding party back in through the portcullis.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"See Smag," Pippin whispered, he could hardly speak as a thousand eyes were on them as they made their way to the door indicated. "they's wanting you to go get My Merry too – so you couldn't not go do it all the time anyhow."

"I don't know how you made this plan Little Pip," Smagnu muttered back, "But it seems to be working. I'd best leave you outside while I go and get New Little Pip, just don't do anything – odd!"

"We not do no things!" Pippin retorted indignantly, "We just go wait at you fetching My Merry."

Smagnu looked about and decided the best thing would be to pretend to tie Shadowfax up with a dire warning to those about. "Don't let no one touch this 'ere 'orse," he admonished a small orc standing nearby, "yer come 'ere and watch it, an' don't let none o' this lot touch it nor the little imp on top. It's a special Whiteskin's 'orse, thisun, if yer touch it, it'll 'ave yer!"

The small orc saluted in fear, "Yers yer 'onour, I'll watch it like it was mithril," and he took up position by Shadowfax, being sure to give him a wide berth.

Smagnu banged on the door and when it was opened by a fat faced orc demanded, "Where's General Phunnie – I got a special assignment. I gotta pick up the other 'obbit what he's got."

"Well you got back quick enough!" The fat faced orc frowned in confusion, looking past Smagnu at Pippin seated up on Shadowfax. "I thought you'd taked it to the Mouth hisself an' 'e aint back 'ere yet. Whass yer orders then?"

Smagnu was flustered at this but thought it through quickly. The orc was obviously expecting someone to pick up the other hobbit, so why not him. He could see he already had a hobbit, so that must be the one that, that… what? Ah he had it! The one that the wizard was supposed to have, Little Pip, except the wizard had Bloggin, but this orc and the others at the gate, thought that he had captured this hobbit off the wizard! It made perfect sense. Now he was collecting the other and taking them both to Mount Doom! No! Not Mount Doom the wizard was sending him there. The orcs would expect him to go – where? Barad-dûr of course!

"I gotta take both of 'em to the Great Lord Sauron, they's going to Barad-dûr, they is."

"An yer knows yer way around there – does yer?" This fat faced orc seemed to be making conversation rather than interrogating Smagnu, but he was on safe ground here anyway.

"Yers, knows it inside out." Smagnu growled, "Whass it to yer?"

"D'yer knows Snega in the Quartermasters?" The fat faced orc enquired. "He owes me two fuggin' ration points."

"Snega got 'is head removed three months back for trying the same thing on an Uruk – me in fact." Smagnu made the threat plain. It was also true.

"Oh yeah – I had heard that." The fat faced orc started to walk down the corridor, "I'll go tell 'em yer here. Whaddya say yer name was?" The orc turned and looked at the Uruk, his eyes narrowed in thought, "Smag innit? Corporal Smagnu as I recall."

"It's Captain now." Smagnu told him, "An' don't yer forget it."

"Yeah, yeah!" The orc turned away again down the corridor, "Come a fuggin' war and everyone's a bleedin' general."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

TBC

Author's Notes

This chapter as well as being long overdue – is also a birthday present to Marigold! Yay Happy Birthday Marigold! I didn't have time to write her a poem – but KnittedMerry and KnittedPippin have done some celebrating for her birthday – check their LJ to see what they've been up to.

Also, have been most busy putting together a story written by a group of writers. The story is called The East Gate and was originally written as a Role Play, but now it is being beaten into story format by Marigold and me. It's quite a lot of work, so I have to be forgiven for neglecting Recap a little bit – but I'll try and keep up.

In the meantime, please check out The East Gate on fanfic.net, written by The Eastgaters, the cast list is as follows:-  
Frodo – Baylor  
Samwise – Budgielover  
Pippin – Marigold  
Merry – Llinos  
Legolas – Mainframe  
Aragorn – Nilramiel  
Boromir – Rachel Stonebreaker  
Gimli – Q

There is also a sister story, which is a record of the correspondence carried on behind the scenes. All reviews gratefully received!  
Llinos

Here we go with the chat…

Shirebound: How are you keeping track of all these storylines, Llinos?  
Llinos: Who said I'm keeping track – I'm as fascinated as you to find out.

Meatball: PIPPIN you little persnickety scally-wag! Don't trick poor Smagnu! Gandalf will have his butt if you try to rescue Merry!   
Llinos: Nice to see someone taking the orc's part over Pippin!

Poppy Muddyfoot: WOW! I just finished reading Recaptured from the beginning.   
Llinos: A bold enterprise!

Poppy Muddyfoot: [Snip brilliantly written review for space] For now, just know that I think you're doing an incredible job, and I can't wait to see where you take them next.  
Llinos: It is a worry!  
Poppy Muddyfoot: P.S. I throughly enjoy your responses to your reviewers. They are almost as much fun to read as the story.  
Llinos: Oh dear there's pressure!  
Poppy Muddyfoot: I feel like I know Marigold now, too.  
Llinos: Yes – she is actually quite nice once you get to know her in spite of what the others say! We like her – don't we!

Tingilya: Hi! Your story is an addiction! Thanks for giving Legolas a lot more attention then he got in the books.   
Llinos: Did I? Oh well there'll be more of him soon – I hope!

Tingilya:Veel geluk! (This is Dutch for 'good luck')  
Llinos: Diolch yn fawr! (This is Welsh for 'Thank you very much')

Terutama ni tayia: Woot! Go Pippin!! Go get Merry for me... Yay!   
Llinos: And Smag – don't forget Smagnu Rocks!

Orange: I'm sitting! I'm reading! Whee! Finally! Why I don't print this out for immediate reference is and shall forever be a mystery   
Llinos: I might put it on CD when it's finished – any good?

Pervy Hobbit Fancier: Gandalf sure can be a condesending jerk sometimes...making fun of poor Bloggin's grammar and his not so delightful smell!   
Llinos: And now look what he's done! Gone and lorst him!

MelilotHill: Yes, after a lot of hard work, I finally caught up with the story. It is truly great. To thank you for this story, I made you a "present". Because it turned out to be very large, I will sent it to you by e-mail.   
Llinos: People like you make it all worthwhile, Mel!

Tasha: (hmm, orc taking orders from hobbit...gives this Pip ideas regarding a certain orc I know named Nagash...  
Guest correspondent – Captain Nagash: Now don't start getting any ideas!  
Tasha, imagining a rather cute little Bloggin in Pip's clothes  
Llinos: I'm glad you think he's cute!

Star's dreams: I don't know if I should worry about Pip, Merry, or Frodo. And plus all the other characters.   
Llinos: Oh yes – you should definitely worry about all of them.

Eldarin Queen: Well if Pippin isn't just a persistent little hobbit! So how are you going to pull all of this off Llinos? Is Merry going to live or what. If Barad-dûr crumbles while he's in it who will rescue him? the Eagles?   
Llinos: So many questions – and not a single answer.

Jessi: I must have read part 1 sometime last year and kept checking the site I'd originally read it on (henneth annun) for updates, when I found this, I nearly bent over backwards. I've been reading part 2 nonstop for about 5 days now. I am so madly in love with this series.   
Llinos: Oh I'm sorry, bad, bad me – I keep forgetting to update on HA! Will try to remember sometime in future – still you found me now!

Baylor: Ahahaha -- fantastic: Still greatly enjoying the material with Majdi. And I love Gandalf's parting words to Pippin:  
Llinos: Aha Majdi and Gandalf, just gotta love those hobbit caretakers.

Gayalondiel: I really enjoyed Pippin singing songs in PippinSpeak a few chapters ago…  
Llinos: The cattimus and mouseimus song? Legolas liked that too.

Sam: "Nassty's better than stupid!" "Fat hobbit knows as well" I'm going to kill him! How dare he call Sam stupid and fat!  
Llinos: Well Gollum isn't very nice – that's how he dares.

pipinheart really loved it, this is a great fic. Pip dosen't listen to Gandalf does he.   
I hope Merry will get rescued.  
Llinos: Ah but he did listering at Gandalf – if Pippin's speech is all wonky, Gandalf should realise that maybe his hearing is wonky too!

Scarlet Angel4: Keep up the good work! I adore it! "cough cough hint hint – MR"  
Llinos: Working hard – honest! Oh We've been good – we did some MR! We did! Am I excused now? No – oh well, worth a try.

Pipwise brandygin: One of the reasons I love this story so much is that at the beginning of every new chapter I never have a clue as to what's going to happen by the end of it, [snips lovely review with lots of questions I can't answer]  
Llinos: The scary thing is – neither do I – honestly!

Pip: Ha ha, I love the last line. Pippin's really got a mind of his own.   
Llinos: I just never know what he's going to come out with.

Nitedancer: Oh! but poor Merry, how much more can this tiny brave hobbit take.   
Llinos: Not much I shouldn't think.  
Nitedancer: Pippin...It's a good job he doesn't really know 'exactly' what is happening with 'His Merry'   
Llinos: Hmm – may he never find out – but…

Samwise The Strong: You really must try and help my poor Mer. He's in a bad spot, or so it would seem. Good to see you again. Update soon.   
Llinos: I'm working on it… honestly!

Freya: Poor, poor Merry. Each new instalment of this story is like a bit of cake- delicious, but always leaving me hungry for more! (I've been told I'm rather like a hobbit in that respect, that I can never eat too much cake...)   
Llinos: You're right – even poor Merry succumbed to the lure of cake!

Hai Took: I was so excited to see another chapter, technically I'm suppose to be in bed but I had to read this first! Thank you lots and can't wait for more!!   
Llinos: Well I hope I catch you at a better time of day this time!

Wynded: Gollum's coming for Pip! No! I must save him! Wait. . . how do I get there? And what do I say?   
Llinos: I don't know! You tell me – quick!

Skippingstones: but I finished another illustration for the story. It's from closer to the beginning, when the Nazgul comes for Pippin after he looks into the Palantir, while they're still in Rohan.   
Llinos: It's very flattering when readers make pictures of this story – I love it! Especially as I can't draw for toffee!

SarahSweetie: btw, I also think its funny how everyone is now connected, except for Aragorn. I wonder if that will happen soon? Oh well. I guess only you know what's in store...  
Llinos: Not really – and never really considered Aragorn? Hmm. Nah – although…

Magical Rachel: I think that the thing I love most about this incredible tale is that I have no way of guessing what will happen next! Who could have predicted Frodo and Gollum's situation?! Certainly not me!   
Llinos: Nor me.

Lindelea: Ah, Pip, Gandalf ought to have expected something like this to happen...  
Llinos: Well who said he didn't?

Zarquin: Yay! I love Faramir's crush and the resulting jealousy ...I shall be absolutely crushed should this story cease, esp. since I'm telling all of my friends "read it! read it! read it!" until they give in, do so, and become addicted. You've turned me into a fanfic crack dealer.   
Llinos: Oh dear – bad me, crack dealer. No wait – it's only fanfic – phew! Faramir and Éowyn will be back soon – promise.


	36. Listen and Learn

Listen and Learn

Recaptured – Chapter 128

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

_**A quick Recap of Recap – as it's been a while.**_

_The Ring, in trying to escape Frodo's intended destruction of It, has managed to transfer much of It's power to a faux Ring, which Gandalf gave to Pippin to try and mislead the hobbit into thinking he was the Ringbearer in order to fool Sauron into also believing this._

_Legolas, who has already been blinded and had his speech taken in a mental battle with the Dark Lord, is recovering from field surgery after being injured in battle and is unconscious. Gimli is taking care of him and managed to mindspeak to the elf with Pippin's help._

_Éowyn and Faramir are devastated by Merry's kidnap by a fell beast after Faramir slew it's rider, when they were hurrying to the Black Gate to warn Pippin not to go to Mordor, although this message subsequently changed that Pippin should go to Mount Doom and destroy his half of the Ring._

_Pippin has been reunited with Smagnu and Co and has been sent off to Mordor with Smag by Gandalf, so that he may destroy his part of the Ring. He was given strict instructions not to attempt to rescue Merry, which, of course, he ignored._

_Gandalf, in order to create a diversion for Pippin and Smag's Quest, went to the Black Gate with Bloggin disguised as Pippin. But he was attacked by the Dark Lord with devastating results. Gandalf is down and Bloggin has been taken by the Uruks._

_Meanwhile, Gollum has gained a reciprocal insight into Frodo's mind and is aware of Pippin's half of the Ring and has now set off to intercept him so that he can kill him and steal the Precious. Frodo and Sam are pursuing Gollum to prevent this, although Frodo is dubious about how he might react to Pippin having the Ring._

_Merry has been snatched from certain death, both in the cage of a fell beast and then from hanging over the Black Gate and is now to be sent to Sauron. He is traumatised by events and the shock has robbed him of his voice. However, his captor, Majdi Rann, a servant of the Mouth of Sauron, has taken pity on him, although there is not a great deal he can do to save him._

**_Now read on…_**

Gandalf's mind fled away from the unexpected onslaught of the Dark Lord. His consciousness retreated from the horrendous intrusion and sought refuge. He needed somewhere quiet and dark, a little known and unsuspected place in which he could recover his thought and reason. Floundering around in the void of blackness to which he had retreated he discovered a fissure nearby. It was blank and dark but there was the tiniest spark of comfort in there. It seemed to be a miniscule flicker of something positive and warm. Suddenly the White Wizard recognised the little spark – it was hope and it burnt brightly inside this drear and sad place. Hope and something else? A ladle? What? No! Someone holding a ladle. It was a small orc called Sniggin, he held his brother's ladle, possessively and hopefully, knowing that the other would come back to him so long as he held on to this significant possession.

This was good! This place was safe and unobtrusive, he could rest here and observe and none were likely to deduce where his thoughts and memory and intellect now resided, neither his enemies nor his friends. Gandalf settled incongruously back and watched through Bloggin's eyes as the three armies of orcs bore down on him.

As the first band of orcs, all Uruks, seized Windfola's reins Gandalf watched with alarm as his prone body was kicked at, but the jeering captors soon lost interest and Bloggin hung frantically to the saddle as he was raced along. Although he was close to total panic, there seemed to be a stern voice in the back of his head that stopped him from jumping from the horse's back and screaming for mercy from the marauding band of Uruks. It made no sense, he was petrified and yet he was overcome with a great sense of calm that told him nothing bad would happen as long as he kept quiet and still. Bloggin held tight and waited.

They reached the gate and the leading Uruk rattled the bars ferociously, "Oi let us in! We's got the 'alfling 'ere!"

"Yer can't 'ave!" The skeletal orc snarled through the portcullis, "jest 'ad annuver Uruk in 'ere an' 'e'd got the 'alfling, I saw it wiv me own eyes as I live an' breathe!"

"Yeah an if yer wan' ta keep livin' an' breathin' yer'd best open these fugging gates right now!" The head Uruk slammed his fist into the ironwork again, making a clamour that caused Windfola to rear up, almost unseating the unfortunate Bloggin.

"All right! Keep yer 'ead on!" The skeletal orc motioned to the troll to raise the gate again. "Yer'd better get it over an' put it wiv the other 'un."

"Nah!" The Uruk turned to his companions, "Whaddyer fink boys? I reckon we're gonna keep this 'un to ourselves, ain't gonna get it pinched offen us!" He turned back to the skeletal one. "Where's the best place to stick a vallubul prisnor like this 'un?"

"There's some empty lockups over by them there Nazgûl's stables," the burly Uruk behind the gate pointed, "yer can stick it in there. Just make sure it's empty first or the dragon's'll 'ave it, just as soon as look at it. They's already etten one up so's I'd heard."

_'so it weren't a rumour!'_ Bloggin's mind filed the piece of information. _'the dragon things **had** eaten one of them halflings.'_

Before he had a chance to contemplate this intelligence further, Windfola was jerked forwards again and Bloggin carried through the ranks of orcs, hoping that he would at least not be recognised as an orc himself, let alone as Bloggin, brother of Sniggin of the One-Four-One, Blue Rainbow battalion.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Éowyn felt a sudden stab of pain in her lower ribs, she let out an involuntary gasp and clutched at her midriff, reaching out with her other hand to steady herself against the nearest support, which happened to be Gimli.

"Milady! What's wrong?" Gimli took her hand and glanced up at Faramir who stepped forward as she faltered. "What ails thee?"

"It's… it's nothing, I'm sure," Éowyn straightened up as she gained control of the sudden pang and felt it diminish after the first onslaught, "Legolas has taken back the hurt that is his." Because of his close proximity and their mental link, she could feel the elf's consciousness return and with it his pain before he could take control of his senses and rein them in. Éowyn took a deep breath and smiled at the concerned males, "I am certain he is awake and that is a good sign, is it not?"

"I am not so sure of that," Gimli looked anxiously in the direction of the tent where the elf lay. "He is sorely wounded and perhaps sleep would be a good remedy."

"Perhaps you should lie down My Lady Éowyn?" Faramir offered his hand to escort her.

"I am… that is, I will be all right," Éowyn took the proffered hand nevertheless, more to please Faramir than because she needed the help. The young man brightened at this response, but was dashed again a second later. "We should go at once to see how Legolas fares though." Éowyn started to lead the way.

"Aye, my thoughts exactly," Gimli agreed and hurried in front, nodding curtly to Dysgwr as they entered and heading straight to the elf's bedside.

"Excuse me, I hope you are not planning to disturb my patients," Dysgwr now had a considerable collection of wounded under his care and beds were crammed into every spare inch of the tent. "His Royal Highness, Prince Legolas is yet sleeping."

"His Royal whatness?" Gimli spluttered at the title. He had never heard the elf addressed thus by anyone, not in Imladris, not in Lothlórien and certainly not in Minas Tirith, although it was the case there that Legolas had at one point been in command of that City by some strange default.

"He is the son of King Thrandruil of Mirkwood I understand." Dysgwr stated rather haughtily, "I verify the identity of all my patients, I am very thorough."

"Well yes… but…" Gimli was trying to edge around the healer. "I don't think he would like…"

"It is protocol to address each patient according to his station." Dysgwr added, stepping now to block Gimli's way. "I do not tolerate indiscipline in any establishment in which I am principal healer and in this tent that is what I am. Furthermore, I will not tolerate unscheduled visiting, with non-healers wandering in and out on whatever whim…"

"Gimli! He's awake!" Éowyn had slipped past the officious Dysgwr while he was busy lecturing the dwarf. She had enough experience of the man's pedantic need for protocol when she had helped Merry escape his ministrations. Although she had wondered since if that had been for the best, in view of what had happened to the hobbit. "Look he is moving. Legolas, Legolas my dear, can you hear me? It's Éowyn."

Even Dysgwr was taken by surprise at this news and turned about abruptly in unison with Gimli, who in turn managed to finally make his way to the elf's side. He took his friend's hand and was rewarded with a tight grip. "You are awake! How do you feel? Have you much pain?"

"I shall do the diagnosis Master Dwarf." Dysgwr took the elf's other hand and felt his cheek, testing for temperature. "He is quite cool, no fever still."

"I'm not sure that elves get feverish," Éowyn looking at Gimli. The dwarf shrugged, he was no student of elf physiology either. Just then, Legolas used his grip on Gimli's hand to pull himself upright to a sitting position.

"Your Highness have a care!" Dysgwr put his hand on Legolas's shoulder as though to press him back down, but then thought better of it.

"He seems to be somewhat recovered," Faramir was not sure whether to be glad of this as it meant that Éowyn's attention might be dissipated once more, but on the other hand, at least she would cease to worry about the elf so much. "Perhaps we should leave him to get some peace."

Éowyn smiled at Faramir, but ignored his suggestion, taking a goblet and placing it to Legolas's lips for him to drink. The elf took a long draught then choked and spluttered, pushing the vessel away. Éowyn dragged her gaze from Faramir to look at the drink and sniff it; it was not water but ale. "Aiech! I'm so sorry Legolas," she whispered in her embarrassment. Éowyn prided herself on her healing and nursing skills and frowned, wondering what could have caused her to become so distracted.

Faramir and Gimli had both seen what had happened, as had Dysgwr. "Is it your normal practice to force alcoholic beverages on your newly awoken patients Milady?" The question seemed reasonable, but the tone was scathing. "If so I would prefer in my healing domain you defer to my practice of proffering plain boiled water."

"I thought I had," Éowyn said in her own defence, "why have you got ale here in any event?"

"Ah – that would be mine," Gimli looked suitably embarrassed but, before Dysgwr could turn on him with another lecture, there was a commotion at the entrance of the tent.

"Bring him through, quickly! Make a resting place for the pallet." Four soldiers, two Gondorian and two Rohirrim were bearing a stretcher and at their head was Aragorn.

"Who is it? What has occurred?" Faramir stepped towards the procession while Dysgwr fussed them to an unoccupied corner to relinquish their burden.

"Oh no!" Éowyn gasped in dismay and Faramir took her small hand in his.

Gimli voiced what they had all seen except for the elf, who prompted the dwarf with a squeeze to his hand. "It's Gandalf! He's… he's… I don't know."

"He's breathing," Aragorn turned sensing their dismay, "But I cannot rouse him at all. The little orc is taken along with your steed Milady. I am sorry."

"Oh, but I barely knew the creature My Lord," Éowyn frowned at the news, "I mean I'm sorry he is lost, but the orc was not a particularly close acquaintance."

"I think he means Windfola," Faramir took the opportunity to breathe the words quietly into her ear and squeeze the small hand that was in his.

Éowyn blushed, "My steed is a warhorse who knows his duty – as do I. His loss is regrettable but I do feel concern for that poor little creature."

Faramir sighed, but said nothing.

Aragorn knelt beside Gandalf and placed a hand gently upon the lined brow. "Gandalf? Can you hear my voice?" The Ranger looked up and sighed, "There is nothing, it is as if his very soul has fled his body."

The conversations drifted eerily through Legolas' mind. He tested his arm by flexing his fingers and stretching his hand, then stopped, too painful yet. Gandalf lay close by, but the elf could not sense his presence. Aragorn was trying to rouse the wizard, but Legolas knew it was futile, Gandalf was not there.

Tentatively he let a wisp of thought stir within his mind, probing and seeking. It would be difficult to reach Mithrandir at any distance. In Legolas' experience the wizard was private and secretive with his spirit and did not communicate easily in his mind.

Painfully, trying to suppress the throbbing ache in his side and his arm, Legolas concentrated all his energy on moving through the darkness that surrounded his thoughts. Too long had he shut off the inward flow into his mind for fear of discovery and, even now, there was much danger.

He found himself floating through a morass of black thoughts that cursed and spat venom with hate filled bile or minds filled with terror that were caught up in a nightmare of darkness, driven forward to certain death like beasts before the butcher's knife. Legolas almost found it too oppressive in his weakened state, but there was a faint glow that he recognised as Gandalf and so pushed onwards.

Legolas could not call out to help his search for that would draw unwanted attention as well. There was a strong possibility that the wizard had faced his great foe and perhaps the Dark Lord was seeking him even now.

Suddenly, through the murk and despair, a soft blue light gleamed. It rested quietly, silent, as if not wishing to draw attention to itself. But Legolas fled towards the glow, certain that he recognised its owner. He did not speak, but rather sat beside the silver-blue radiance; touching it lightly to be sure he had found what he wanted. The light shimmered in and out and blended with another garish blue that did not mix but splattered itself crudely about on the pure essence of the azure shade.

Legolas listened.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Merry was silent.

There was much activity and noise around him, voices discussing this and that. He heard himself referred to several times, _'that there imp', _that was him, he knew. _'The fugging 'alfling'_, another epithet to which he had grown accustomed. But he could make no sense of any of it. His mind was numb and he no longer had the will to even try to protect himself or to care what happened to him.

Then that voice was in his face. It was the one who had urged him to try and eat and, Merry thought, the one he had clung to, even though he had clouted him several times. There was nothing else to hold on to in this forsaken den and Merry had resigned himself to death and the thought filled him with darkness and dread. He did not think it would be an easy death that would bring peace, even if he were to die right this instant, the trauma of the last few hours made any kind of calm for him an impossibility – dead or alive. Nevertheless, he had to find a way to die before he was brought before the Dark Lord.

But this man was saying that he would rescue him. Why would he do that? Perhaps he was a spy, an interloper, someone sent by Gandalf or Aragorn to save him. Merry had the vague thought that he should ask who the man was and he moved his lips but no words came out, his throat was frozen and he could not speak. He nodded his head instead and the man seemed satisfied with that.

Merry wondered hazily why he could not talk but his mind was too bleary to follow the train of thought. Instead he tried to focus on what the man was saying to him, "Don't be afraid and don't fight, just do as you're told. I will come after you. I think there is only one courier and I have the edge of surprise. I will rescue you – you'll be all right."

Where was he going? Merry suddenly panicked, this was it! They were taking him to Sauron. Frantically he caught hold of Majdi Rann's cloak and gripped it tightly in both fists.

"No, No! Listen to me," Majdi tried to prise the small fingers open. "You have to go now. It is better if you don't put up a fight, they will knock you unconscious or drug you again. Just go with the courier and I will come for you."

Merry's grip did not lessen. The hobbit was petrified beyond being reasoned with and he buried his head in the cloak, frantically clinging on to the man as if he were his parent or, more poignantly, his executioner.

"Listen, creature." Majdi wished he knew the thing's name, but he seemed too petrified to talk, "My name is Majdi – Majdi Rann. Do you have a name? What do they call you?"

Merry just shook his head again, his face still buried in Majdi's cloak. The man sighed and started to go through the hobbit's clothes, checking the pockets of his britches and shirt. Which reminded him, "Hey, you, Phunnie, where's the shiny mail coat this one had on? If you've had it away, there'll be more than me to answer to."

"Oh, yers, ah," Phunnie hesitated, "look, no need to put it back on the 'alfling. We can split…"

"I hope that was a pathetic orc attempt at humour." Majdi left his scrutiny of Merry and grabbed the General by the coat, pushing his face so close to the orc's that he almost puked from the stench. "Get it now and put it back!"

"Right, right!" Phunnie pushed Majdi off, nervous of this man who was aggressive enough to physically face down an Uruk. "I jest took it of'n the brat so as I could wash it proper."

Majdi turned back to Merry, "I want you to keep that shiny coat on, I don't know if it's magic or something, but I think it will protect you, like that weird elven rope does. Now then," Majdi continued his examination of Merry's clothes. "What's this?" He pulled out a folded, battered piece of paper from the hobbit's britches' pocket and smoothed it out until he could decipher the scribbled words, _'Dearest Pip, this is the way out for you and Merry. You must be very careful and look after Merry as it is going to be dangerous for him! _

It was in fact the note that Frodo had written for Pippin in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. Pippin had kept it safe until he had reached Minas Tirith and been given new clothes. The note had been folded up in his britches' pocket when last he wore them and these were the britches that Merry had donned in the Houses of Healing when there were no other things available to fit him.

There was much more scribbling on the scrap of paper and what appeared to be a badly drawn map with notes, but Majdi could not read all that was written as the language was foreign to him and the paper was crumpled and the crayon faded. But the first two words were clear enough, the name of the addressee, _'Dearest Pip'._

"So your name is Dearest Pip, is it?" Majdi asked. There was a slight response as the halfling looked up at him, a spark of recognition in his eyes at last. "Pip, Is that what they call you? All right, you listen to me Pip. You have to go with the messenger, but I will come after you and rescue you. I am not afraid of Uruks and will kill one as easily as look at one. So you go along and don't be afraid little Pip. Understand?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Bloggin kept his face well hidden as told, although he probably would have in any case, without the instruction. There were far too many things happening to him that ranged from mildly unusual to terrifying. And even mildly unusual was enough to upset this particular little cooking orc especially without his brother around.

For one thing he was not accustomed to being the centre of so much attention. There were orcs all around him and they were all talking about him, prodding him and snarling at him and he was the only one on a horse. He wondered why they didn't pull him down off the animal. These orcs seemed to think he was something special, another unique experience in Bloggin's life, no one had ever considered him special before, not even Sniggin. Of course, he reminded himself, that was only because they thought he was someone else, they thought he was the odd little halfling with the speech impediment. Now where had that thought come from? Bloggin was very confused, he kept having thoughts that definitely did not belong to him. Some of the thoughts even had words in that he didn't understand, such as **_impediment_**. What the slug's breath did that mean?

It means '**_difficulty'_** his mind told him.

_'thank you, sir_,' Bloggin told his mind, still as confused as ever.

**_'You're welcome,'_** thought Gandalf, his volume carefully adjusted to just below that which he used for the hobbits. **_'Now keep your head down and be quiet.'_**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gollum skittered over the black rocks, moving faster now that he had a purpose. He stopped every so often and sniffed the air. He could not tell where the hobbit with the Ring was from the airborne information, just that vast swathes of orcs were this way and that Barad-dûr was the other.

But he knew from an unspoken thought in Master's head that the other hobbit; the little one that didn't hear or talk – The Pippin – would be coming from this direction, from where the orcs were.

"Master doesn't say so," Gollum muttered as he ran, "Oh no – Masster's trying not to think it hisselfs now! But iss too late for that. Why my Precious? Because we heard him! We ssaws I'ss mindses! He's thinking and thinking! Ohho yesss Precious! Thinking where the little hobbit isss and bringing the other Halveses! The Ring – The Precious, isss very clever, very clever My Precious! Puts Itselves in two Halveses and then hobbitses can never break It. Not unless theys do it altogether. Ohho and we thinks thass too much for even clever hobbitses." Gollum chortled, "and theses are not the clever hobbitses – are they Precious!"

The creature slid down a sharp incline and splashed through a black murky stream. "No times for fishsess, not now, not until we finds him." Gollum stopped suddenly and, sitting down in the middle of the water, put his hands to his head, "No! No! Masster, you stay, stay there. Why does he follows us! It's not fair! Trying to stop Sméagol! He won't catches uss! Masster can't run so fast as us and the fat hobbit can't run at all! Haa! Hee! Sméagol going to catch the little hobbit and… Grrrrrrruuumm!" He let out a low growl and made a neck wringing action with his hands, "We'll break his pretty neck. We hates the little hobbit – The **_Pippin_**! He was meant for Her, but She lost him. Sméagol won't lose him, not this time. We'll catch him and kill him and roast him and toast him. Then the Precious will be ours again!"

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Don't be afraid little Pip." The words rang in Merry's head, but somehow they did nothing to allay his fears. The man had told him his name, **_Majdi_**, and then said he would come and rescue him. But then what? Would he let him go or did he want him for some evil purpose of his own?

Merry wanted to thank the man, to tell him he was grateful and to ask him if he meant to hurt him, but all he could do was tremble and hold tightly to his cloak. Then the Uruk who had washed him arrived back with the mithril coat and the man and the orc forced it over Merry's head. After which the hobbit was stood on his feet and Majdi guided him to the door and along the winding corridor, his hand firmly holding the hobbit's upper arm.

Merry tried to look around as he was marched along. He frantically did not want to go, but he saw no way out and his inert senses refused to let him so much as utter a plea for help. They passed several large orcs but none stepped forward to claim him and finally Majdi stopped by a heavy door and pulled it open.

Merry tried to squeak with fear at the sight of the massive beast that was waiting for him, but still no sound escaped his lips and he tried to move as far behind Majdi as he could, clinging tightly to the man's cloak.

"You the courier for the halfling?" Majdi had to look up at the Uruk, as he was a good head taller than the man. "You got papers?"

"Nah," The Uruk turned away and spat on the ground, "I got the other one, see. An I bin told to take 'em both right away."

"Yers, 'e 'as an all!" The orc guard waiting with the Uruk confirmed. "I seen it all right, left it outside, but 'e's got it right enough!"

"Well you take this one, and be careful of it." Majdi pulled Merry forward. "You probably know, but there's to be no spoiling or looting of it. You do any damage and the Great Lord will know that you have and then you'll wish yourself never out of your pod!"

"I knows that," the Uruk growled, "bin 'andling these liddle rats before I 'ave. Now gies it 'ere, I ain't got no luxury to pass the time o' fuggin' day!"

"And you mind your manners with it, too." Majdi did not like the tone of this great brute. "It's in a delicate state and it could do with something to eat, so have a care with it."

The Uruk took hold of Merry and wordlessly prised his fingers off Majdi's cloak. "I'll get it there in one piece, that's me fuggin' job innit?"

"Well have a care for it, oh and by the way," Majdi added as an afterthought, "I think it's name is Pip."

"Yeah, yeah," the Uruk muttered as he lifted the halfling up on to his great shoulder, "I know."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Bloggin scurried to the far side of the small cell as he was pushed inside and heard the key turn in the lock. He sank down against the wall and lifted his head just enough that he could take in his surroundings. The prison was not so much a cell as a cave with railings and an iron door across the entrance and beyond the bars Bloggin could see several little orcs scurrying about. Mostly they seemed to be carrying pots of liquid, which splashed, and sploshed over the sides as they hurried about. _'mmmm'_ Bloggin thought, _'stew_!'

But no stew came his way and, after several boring minutes of waiting for something to happen, he decided to investigate the interior of his accommodation. He was not sure why he wanted to do this, nor why he thought about it in those strange long words, but, nevertheless, he began to explore the darker nooks and crannies of the cave.

In one gloomy corner he found a pile of rags and pulling them apart, discovered a couple of pairs of britches, mostly torn beyond repair and a leather jerkin, also ripped. There was a helm that would be several sizes too big for him and was badly dented and what had been a long belt, but was now two short belts. Various other assorted shreds of cloth turned out to have possibly been shirts of cotton or velvet in their original form. Bloggin sniffed each scrap trying to discern how recently it had been worn and if it would be possible to recycle it as clothing and if not, was it edible?

His clothes sorting complete Bloggin continued on around the cell and found a little depression with several bones, mostly splintered and jagged and two small skulls. There was an assortment of teeth, obviously not from the same creature as some were pointed and others round and… and **'_they are cuspids and molars'_**, his mind told him, **_'and put them down, there is no time for making necklaces or soup _**his mind went on to say.

"I wasn't – honest!" Bloggin told his interfering mind out loud. To be truthful the thought had crossed his mind but he knew it was neither the time nor the place. He continued his investigations. In the farthest, darkest corner, Bloggin found something much more interesting and close to his heart, a little heap of cooking utensils. There was a tin mug, almost rusted beyond recognition, a small billycan, and, of all wondrous things, a battered and bent ladle. He picked up all three items and pottered back to where the teeth were and had a little think.

**_'No soup_** his mind told him sternly. His mind was really getting so bossy just lately.

"Well what does I do now?" The little orc asked his mind petulantly, "No soup nor no jewellery – I dun't know what else!"

**_'Hmm_** his mind replied. **_'Listen carefully, this is what I want you to do. Make sure no one is watching, then take off those clothes, no just the top things, and dress yourself in some of those rags.'_**

Bloggin frowned at these instructions, "why's I gotta do that? I likes these things and all, they's the best clothes I ever had."

**_'You keep them on and you'll be the best dressed orc corpse in Mordor_**' his mind told him scathingly. **_'Now you take them off and_ _get some of those rags on!_**As Blogginsidled off to obey his imperious mind, he obediently looked both ways to make sure he was not observed and then, as quickly as he could, he shed the grand tabard, the mail and, his greatest regret, the fine little helm and clad himself in the smelly rags. **_'Good, that's good_,**' his mind was full of praise, **_'now hide the things you've taken off… that's right… bury them in the heap on the floor. Now go and pick up the little cooking pot and the cup and, listen to me carefully.'_**His mind barely gave him a chance to think about this before continuing_, **'I want you to rattle the bars with the mug and attract the attention of one of those little orcs.'**_

"Are they going to give me some stew?" Bloggin asked his mind enthusiastically. "'Cause I could really eat some o' that now."

**_'No,_** his mind told him sternly again, **_'I want you to tell them that you were feeding the prisoner and that he escaped and locked you up in his place. Do you understand?_**

"No, Sir," Bloggin told his mind, "I'm the prisoner, how can I escapted meself?"

**_'Well,'_** his mind gave a deep sigh, **_'you're going to pretend. Or rather you're going to stop pretending. You're not the halfling any more, you're just plain old Boggin…'_**

"Bloggin, Sir," Bloggin reminded his mind.

**_'Yes, yes, Bloggin,'_** his mind continued. **_'So you pretend that the halfling escaped when you were bringing him some food. Now do you understand?_**'

Bloggin sat down, his head between his hands and thought very, very hard. His mind sat with him and waited patiently.

Eventually, the little orc jumped up and grabbed the pot, the mug and the ladle and ran to the bars, rattling the mug to and fro across the railings. "Help! Help! Lemme out o' 'ere! That there 'alfling's gone and escaped and lockt'ed me in. Quick lemme out!" The panic rose in his voice until one of the smaller orcs came over and peered in.

"Wassup?" the little orc snarled. "Wot you doin' in there?"

Before Bloggin could reply, his imperious mind took over, without so much as an excuse me nor nothing. "I wuz feedin' the 'alfling an 'e jumped me. Escaped 'oo knows where! Quick, lemme out o' 'ere or we'll all be fer it! You an all – best ta keep right quiet 'bout this, jest say yer dun't know nuffink!"

"Yeah right!" The little orc was in fact in charge of the feeding of prisoners and his heart went into overload panic with this news. He quickly spun the keys around his neck and unlocked the door, letting Bloggin slip quietly through, "an' you better keep yer gob shut an all, ifn' yer knows what's good fer yer! I'll wring yer fuggin' neck meself if yer breathe a word. Now get on wiv it."

Bloggin did as told and quickly scurried away to try and get on with whatever it was the orc thought he should be doing.

His mind breathed a long sigh of relief. **_'Leave that_,**' it ordered once it had finished sighing, **_'we have to go and find Merry, he'll need rescuing now._**'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"'Ere!" The Uruk that had captured Bloggin had just come from locking up his prize and was contemplating silently how he could claim the halfling all for himself – the bounty was bound to be worth plenty. "Ain't that the uvver one? Yer know – they said at the gate some berk had already got one?" He pointed his companion, a smaller Uruk with a flattened nose, towards Pippin waiting patiently on Shadowfax.

"Nah – I dunno," Flatnose offered, "It dun't look proper – not all dressed up smart in armour like what ourn wuz!"

"Yeah well, I'm gonna mek sure as sure," Bloggin's Uruk declared, "Look, best not to take no fugging chances. We can grab thisun and stick it in the cell wiv the uvver. 'Sides," the Uruk pointed out, "T'ain't our fault if some fugging idiot leaves theys property laying about all over the fugging place!" He strode purposefully over to the halfling and went to reach up and grab him.

"Oi, Mister!" The little orc left to mind the horse and prisoner dared the challenge. He was afraid of this Uruk, but then again the other one was even bigger and more frightening. "My boss says no one ain't to touch that! An' the 'orse'll 'ave yer if yer goes near it."

"Fug off!" explained Bloggin's Uruk and reached up again.

It was one blow! But it was straight to the head and Shadowfax's hooves, whilst not shod were sharp and deadly. Pippin clung frantically to the great horse's mane as he reared up and downed the Uruk.

"Oh shit!" Flatnose was impressed. This was obviously the right halfling after all, a shame his companion would not be able to claim it. "'Ere you!" The Uruk wondered if he could lure the valuable prisoner down with his charm. "Come down orf that 'orse an' I'll give yer summat!"

"No thankering," Pippin offered politely, as he regained his composure and balance aboard Shadowfax once more. "We dursent not needing no things just now."

"'Ere you," Flatnose grabbed the minder orc by the ear, "get that there body cleaned up. Dun't you know nuffing?" The minder orc was always happy to respond to the latest orders and started to drag the inert body away.

"Look I knows they got nuffing good planned for you." Flatnose tried again, "They gonna take yer to Barad-dûr, to see the Great Lord Sauron. Come wiv me an I'll get yer out o' it somehow."

"We not got go with no ones," Pippin felt fairly secure on board Shadowfax, but the attention from this Uruk was most unwelcome. "You got goes somewheres not here now please."

"Wot?" The Uruk wondered if Halflings spoke a different language. "Wot you saying? Git down off the 'orse and 'splain it ter me."

Pippin scratched his head. This Uruk's accent was so distorted he could barely understand a word he said, although he appeared to want him to get off Shadowfax. "We not heared you saying no things. We got waitering here at We Smag… We meanted We Uruk go take We round go bout heres. Not for you get We's. You got going not be here please We think."

"Wot yer saying?" Flatnose stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it about. "I can git 'e a right fair 'nuff scoff ifn yer comes down now." He wondered if food might tempt the creature down. "Gies yer 'smuch's yer can hold in yer belly. Cmon littlun, I'll ketch yer ifn yer jumps." And he held out his arms in offer of the catch.

"We not got go listering at you no mores now." Pippin turned his head firmly in the other direction, although he had wanted to watch the door where Smagnu had vanished, he found the arm waving of the Uruk scared him it was so threatening. "We can't not knowing no things what you is sayering. Pleases be go not here!"

"Well wot's it yer sposed ter 'ave any road?" Flatnose decided to try another approach. He knew the halflings possessed some kind of magical artifact and if he could get his hands on that, maybe that would make his fame and fortune. "Yer dun't want it. Gies it to us an' have away wiv it."

Pippin wished frantically that Smagnu would hurry up with Merry. He had no idea what this odd Uruk was saying but he was certain it was nothing good. He was probably angry that Shadowfax had laid out, and possibly killed his companion. "We not meanering get friends go not live! It big mistrake. We thinkering Shadowfax mostly sorry but he big one Ruruk go touchering We and We Shadowfax not go likering that too much or even a lot."

Just then there was a frantic shout and another Uruk came running across the compound and clouted Flatnose across the back of the head. "Wot yer done wiv it, yer pigfaced snout?"

"Wot?" Flatnose pulled himself up and rolled out of the way of the next blow. "Done wiv wot?"

"The fugging 'alfling – thass wot!" The new Uruk aimed a kick at Flatnose and pulled a knife. "Yer fugging 'alf inched it when yer thought no one wuz lookin'!"

"Fugging dint!" Flatnose was on his feet and grabbed the other in a headbutt position, before hammering home his skull, just as the other plunged the knife into Flatnose's unfortunate guts.

Both attacks rang true and before Pippin could blink there were now two dead Uruks at Shadowfax's feet. The minder orc returned at this opportune moment and looked dolefully up at the halfling seated silently on the great white horse. Sighing deeply he began to cart the first body away, "Three dead bosses in as many minutes!" He nodded at Pippin. "Fer such a little fing, yer don't arf cause a lotta trouble!"

"We not caused no trubs," Pippin applied his most innocent wide-eyed look. After all, Smagnu had told him to behave. "We not do no things – just sittering here and minds We owns businesses."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Merry tried desperately not to let go of Majdi, but the Uruk was too big and powerful and, once he had prised open the hobbit's fingers, he lifted him easily over his great shoulder. In spite of a tiny voice at the back of his consciousness telling him to stay calm, Merry had been through too many traumas at the hands of orcs and Uruks in the last few hours and reason had fled.

Being captured was of course fear-provoking and both he and Pippin had been taken prisoner many times during the Quest. But being seized and toyed with as a potential meal was beyond frightening and poor little Merry was still reeling from the experience, when he had been dragged from the jaws of death only to be knocked about and then strung up over the main gate into Mordor, where Pippin could see him. Then he had been abruptly pulled back and roughed up again, shouted at, made sick and now he was to be sent to the Dark Lord in the hands of this terrifying abomination of a creature. The Uruk's long black stringy hair matched his long black stringy face and the numerous piercings and protruding yellow fangs did nothing to alleviate his general air of evil and malevolence.

Merry shook with fear and, although his power of speech seemed to have deserted him, he managed a small frightened whimper as he struggled valiantly to wriggle away from the great beast carrying him further into Mordor. To the Dark Lord – a fate that he must kill himself rather than face – and, even more devastatingly, further away from Pippin, his dearest cousin and friend, who he would never, ever see again.

It was only then that Merry's stilted thinking registered something he had heard. Majdi had called him 'Pip'. Vaguely Merry wondered why he had done that? Did the man think he was Pippin? If so, how would he know his name?

Then he recalled that the Uruk had muttered that he knew his name was Pip. In fact the big creature was petting him gently on the back of the head, ruffling his curls quite gently. That made no sense! That's not what orcs do. He was talking to him as he walked. Merry tried to make his muddled brain focus properly, to hear what the dreadful monster was whispering to him.

"It's all right," the creature crooned in a gruff, surly tone, "don't you worry New Little Pip, we've come to rescue you, stop fighting me now – come along, just calm down. Little Pip is waiting for us."

Merry almost fainted with shock and delight. He wrapped his arms around the Uruk's neck and hung on tightly, actually nuzzling his face into the gnarled skin. He managed to let out a tiny gasp of relief and opened his eyes as he realised he had just seen dear Mr Smagnude for the first time. Tears of relief and bewilderment ran down Merry's ashen face as the Uruk heaved him up onto Shadowfax in front of Pippin.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

To Be Continued…

Author's Notes

So long! I've been distracted, mainly by shiny things, but occasionally by mundane, have-to-do things as well. Lots of time mucking about with Knittedhobbits, EastGate oh and actually finishing Moria's Revenge. Dabbling in Slashy Role Plays and piddling about on live journal, to say nothing of RL writing projects, running with Jake and root canal tooth surgery.

Nevertheless, the main distraction has been East Gate and I have that mostly under control now, so I am hoping to give Recap a lot more attention. This does not mean anyone is allowed to stop reading and reviewing East Gate because it has cost me real blood!

So enough of my problems – on to yours:-

**_Dreamflower_**: I have to admit I was a little doubtful about starting this one--it's so **_very_** AU, but just a few chapters in and I was hooked, but good!  
**_Llinos_**: I didn't mean to be AU – I didn't even know what AU meant when I started. Still at least it's not a MarySue – at least I don't think Smagnu is a MarySue – on the other hand…

**_mariposa_**: If you do I promise I will review every chapter, long, luscious reviews, dripping with details!  
Llinos: Aha – you've said it now and a promsis is a promsis – I mean promise.

**_SeskiLexi_**: I love this. I'm still rather surprised I managed to read it in under 24 hours... I guess that's just how good it is.  
**_Llinos_**: Or shows what a very fast reader you are! :D

**_SeskiLexi_**: I think I'm more addicted to this than Pip is to his poppies.  
**_Llinos_**: No – not possible. Although he's getting better – it must be Ring addiction.

**_Sheildmaiden_**: Poor Merry! Sorry I haven't reviewed, this is my first opportunity to. I love it, but it's so sad!  
**_Llinos_**: Oh dear – I'll try and cheer up a bit.

**_auntiemeesh_**: Yay! I've finally caught up. Now you won't get three and four reviews a day from me any more...lol.  
**_Llinos_**: Rats!  
**_auntiemeesh_**: Can't wait for the next chapter of this terribly addictive story!  
**_Llinos_**: No need – here it is! :D

**_Birch tree_**: You promised me an update very soon... So? :)  
**_Llinos_**: Eh voila!

**_Shirebound_**: I'm so worried about Merry! He's been through so much trauma, I don't know how he'll ever recover.  
**_Llinos_**: Oh he'll manage.

**_storyfish_**: Wo! I just spent the past week reading Recap from beginning to end.  
**_Llinos_**: There's an end?  
**_storyfish_**: I think what impressed me the most about this fic is how much your writing has improved from chapter 1 to chapter 127.  
**_Llinos_**: Confession time. I don't think my writing has actually changed, it's just that when I realised people were actually reading this thing I started to give it some attention.  
**_storyfish_**: From the start, you've had the knack for these wonderfully twisted plots, but your description, characterization, and overall maturity of writing style have evolved from the run-of-the-mill fic on to something as powerful (and addictive!) as the Ring itself. ;-)  
**_Llinos_**: Wow – that's nice. Although I'm not sure I'm up for maturing – I'm already a little over-ripe in that department. :D  
**_storyfish_**: I've also enjoyed the comments you've posted to reviewers at the end of each chapter. I don't know where you came up with that idea, but your relationships with your faithful reviewers became almost a real-life subplot to the story itself. I especially thought it was cute how Marigold snuck in as one of your most devoted reviewers and ended up your beta, and then your muse!  
**_Llinos_**: She also ended up as my best friend and had moved from LA to live in Marlow-on-Thames, around the corner from me.  
**_storyfish_**: However, one part of your story that really blew me away was actually something you wrote about Frodo. When he put on the Ring and teased the evil gollum-capturing men with rhymes, afterwards, he said something about how it made him feel like Bilbo. Those lines made the difference between Bilbo's light-hearted adventure and Frodo's nightmarish quest all the more poignant--and just about broke my heart.  
**_Llinos_**: It always struck me as poignant, the difference in tone between The Hobbit and LotR and even the earlier part of LotR with the later chapters. Which is why my favourite part of the book is Scouring of the Shire – simply because it brings the story full circle to hobbits being hobbits, albeit matured and capable no-one-messes-with-us-after-what-we've-done hobbits.

**_SarahSweetie_**: 1.) where's the eowyn/faramir (you know i love it lol)  
2.) I wonder what that aragorn mindspeak would be like...prolly kingly and proper or something.  
3.) I hope merry stays safe keep safe mer-mer.  
**_Llinos_**: 1. here, 2. macho and unshaven, 3. he'll try.

**_Baylor_**: The Mouth of Sauron is turning out to be an interesting character as well -- did we ever find out in the book what happened to him? I presume he died in the last battle, but I can't remember if we're specifically told.  
**_Llinos_**: No one said, (Tolkien no one? Excuse me!). Although I understood his ambition, had they won, was leaning towards Isengard.  
**_Baylor_**: "Lord-Cap'n-Master-Wizard Sir" -- be careful, Gandalf's soon going to be requiring everyone to call him that!  
**_Llinos_**: And why not?  
**_Baylor_**: And now I get to the end of the chapter and am chuckling at your cleverness -- of course, it's Smagnu come to fetch Merry! Can't wait to see how this turns out!  
**_Llinos_**: "Sometimes you wanna be – where everybody knows your name!" (Even if they do get it wrong!)

**_Merrylad_**: Beautiful story, keep up the great work. Eagerly await the next chapter.  
**_Llinos_**: Thank you – sorry about the long wait – normal service will be resumed asap.

**_ssj3 Thomas_**: poor bloggin and where in the heck is everybody else, shouldn't they be helping  
**_Llinos_**: I think poor Bloggin has got all the help he can handle right now.

**_Tigertale7_**: I love how Pippin said he had a plan and then events simply fell into place the way they did. Poor Smagnu, assuming his Little Pip is controlling the outcomes.  
**_Llinos_**: It's like magnic!  
**_Tigertale7_**: Are these little hobbits going to help everyone they meet change for the better? ;-)  
**_Llinos:_** Quite possibly – even me!

**_Sam_**: Bad Pippin, going against Gandalf's orders and leading his Uruk astray.  
**_Llinos_**: Oh but Pippin is sure Gandalf really meant him to rescue Merry! No?

**_hobbitsandkilts_**: See after reading this story for longs as its been up I finally remember to leave a review. Silly me keeps forgetting about that.  
**_Llinos_**: Yes and reviews give authors something good to read too!

**_Scarlet Angel4_**: Great work, though it seems shorter than usual... ãeyes you suspisiously (whoa way wrong sp!)ã  
**_Llinos_**: No – it just looks that way in this light.  
**_Scarlet Angel4_**: ãMRã  
**_Llinos_**: Done and done!

**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: Of course, knowing you, that won't be for awhile yet. Patience was never my strong point, and you do a great job of stretching it. (Not like I have any choice BUT to be patient, darn it!)  
**_Llinos_**: I know, but I have had other things that needed to be done – like lots of mucking about on lj, playing with the Knittedhobbits and fiddling around with Eastgate – sigh – real life is such a trial!

**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: But the part that struck me the hardest was your answer to Lindelea's comment-the suggestion that Gandalf might have planned all this. OMG!  
**_Llinos_**: Who knows? Not me, that's for certain.

**_Hai Took_**: Oh, dear! All anxious over if this charade will work! Can't wait to find out!!  
**_Llinos_**: Well all charades must be discovered in the end or they wouldn't be charades. Or perhaps they aren't and we don't know because they've never been discovered! Maybe all life on earth is a big charade! Arrggghhhh!

**_HoorayTheWeird_**: I am Orange  
**_Llinos_**: Would it help to say I am Blue? Oh right! Orange, I remember.

**_Arte_**: I was rereading the story and just barely realized you'd updated again! I don't remember half of what happened before so bear with me here. ;)  
**_Llinos_**: I frequently have the same problem.  
**_Arte_**: Maybe hobbits are enchanted.  
**_Llinos_**: No, they're just like you and me – only shorter, well like you anyway. I'm more like Smag.  
**_Arte_**: Ooh, what would happen if they caught Bloggin thinking it was Pippin?  
**_Llinos_**: They gotta catch him first! Oh they did well and keep him.  
**_Arte_**: Pippin. You. Are. So. One. Minded.  
**_Pippin_**: We go be in two minds at now.  
**_Arte_**: I was trying to get some friends of mine to come read this story, and I declared you the goddess of M&P fanfic. Hope you don't mind, because you are!  
**_Llinos_**: I'm delighted. Did they come?  
**_Arte_**: Is it illegal to publish fanfic?  
**_Llinos_**: Yes – but that never stopped anyone.

**_Marcee_**: snip many good observations on plot development  
**_Llinos_**: All right – step away from the plot and no one gets hurt! (But glad to see you are paying so much attention!)

**_Pipwise Brandygin_**: Wow, I was enjoying all this so much I didn't even notice that there was no Pippin until near the end.  
**_Llinos_**: Well now, I just started reading through these comments and realised I had left Pippin out of this chapter completely. So I went back to see what he was doing while he waited for Smag – just as well I did I think.

**_Breon Briarwood_**: Can't have their plans come off without a hitch, hm? oh, wait, Frodo - Gollum? There's the catch!  
**_Llinos_**: Oh I think they've still got plenty of catches to go.

**_pipinheart_**: Pip sure isn't doing as Gandalf asked...  
**_Llinos_**: Did you truly expect him to?

**_Samwise The Strong_**: Oy, when's Merry gonna get outta it? This is kinda like Roseblades fic, it may not be Legomance, but it's too long for comfort.  
**_Llinos_**: My apologies for making you uncomfortable – you could always sit in the waiting room until it's over.

**_melilot hill_**: A new chapter! That was a nice surprise. You sure know how the write stories that "capture" my heart :)  
**_Llinos_**: Ah, thank you An. :D

**_NekoHitori_**: yes, i have returned!  
**_Llinos_**: Welcome back.  
**_NekoHitori_**: haha! this was a nice chapter. so nice, in fact, that the wait is forgiven.  
**_Llinos_**: Phew – thanks!  
**_NekoHitori_**: I feel sorry for Gandalf, falling and hurting himself like that. but, he did have a Dark Lord in his head at the time, so he can't really be blamed for his mishap, now can he?  
**_Llinos_**: No but is it fair to climb into Bloggin's head?  
**_NekoHitori_**: I hope Bloggin doesn't get into too much trouble when the orcs discover that he is, in fact, NOT a halfling.  
**_Llinos_**: Or if they discover he's got a wizard in his head!


	37. Tongue Tied

**Tongue Tied  
Recaptured – Chapter 129**

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

"Is all righted My Mer!" Pippin had looped his bound hands around in front of Merry and held him tightly as he was lifted up onto Shadowfax. "You don't go needing be cryering My Mer, please don't be cryering not no more. You got stop now, please." Pippin squeezed tightly and buried his face into Merry's trembling shoulder, surprised at first when he met unyielding metal beneath the ragged shirt, until he realised Merry was wearing Frodo's mithril shirt.

Merry heaved several deep breaths and looked down at his shaking hands. He could not manage to stop trembling, no matter how many times he bit his tongue to try and wake up. For this had to be a cruel dream from which he would soon be woken with another blow or shock. How could it be that Pippin had managed to find him in this chaotic nightmare? That he had found Mr Smagnude to help him, confirmed that it must be a dream.

It seemed a long time to Merry since he had been able to feel safe and he had been expecting, even seeking, death for what felt like an eternity, yet it was less than a day since he had been snatched by the fell beast. Perhaps, he reasoned, now that he was very close to death, this was a vision to ease his passing. It would be a relief to die, Merry decided and he thanked the Overheavens that he had been allowed one small glimpse of Pippin again, even if seeing his cousin was not actually real.

"My Mer?" Pippin whispered in his ear, "Say things at We. You are more safely now and We and Smag gotted you. Promsis Mer, Promsis true!"

Merry tried to speak, his mouth opened and his jaw worked, but no sound would come from his throat. He drew another deep breath and managed to swallow the sob that was welling up inside, reducing it to a couple of small hiccups, and turned to look at Pippin with a bewildered and worried frown. Even if this were a vision, Pippin should not mindspeak to him, not even within the deepest, most secret sanctum of his soul, the places where only Pippin had ever been, Merry knew that was forbidden and dangerous at the moment.

"Try to go do some littlel speakering at We My Mer," Pippin pleaded. Merry's agitation and silence was frightening him. "Just go say 'We Pip' at We."

Merry shook his head frantically and put his hand over Pippin's mouth as if to silence him. Pippin took hold of the hand in surprise, looked at it and kissed an angry looking abrasion on the palm and gently placed it back at Merry's side.

_'Why could Merry not speak?'_ Pippin wondered.

_'Why was Pippin mindspeaking?'_ Merry thought, close to panic.

Just then Smagnu interrupted their one sided conversation, "You ready Little Pips?" He asked gruffly, "Erm Horse?" He addressed Shadowfax with what passes as polite for an Uruk, not actually daring to lay a hand on the Lord of the Mearas, "Got to go now!"

Shadowfax nodded his noble head up and down as if he agreed with the plan and started smoothly forward with Smagnu falling into step beside him.

They had not travelled ten paces when a voice rang out across the courtyard, making the escapees freeze in horror.

**"Peregrin Took! What did I tell you?"**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Legolas could still hear the anxious voices around him, they were mostly concerned with Mithrandir who remained unconscious and, from what the elf could make out, barely breathing.

But Legolas was reluctant to pull himself away from the fascinating place that the silver-sapphire trail of light had led him and it was taking most of his concentration to remain there. The elf was puzzled.

Clearly the shimmering argent flavoured azure beam was Mithrandir, Legolas would know him anywhere, but the rather crude splurge of muddy blue that seemed to have attached itself to the wizard was a mystery but it did not seem threatening or of evil intent, just a little slow and baffled. The elf listened carefully.

**_'Now you have your pot filled with the stew?'_**

_'gloop ug… mugg…'_

_**'No please try not to eat it, I know you're hungry and it's got real meat in it – well ratflesh – but do restrain yourself – this is important.'**_

_'pugsh'_

_**'Good! Now listen, you must go over there… yes to the big door… and knock and tell them you have special food for the halfling. Understand?'**_

_'gluug ig bog ung gah!'_

_**'No I don't think they'll hit you, be polite and cringe if you see a fist coming – yes I know you're very good at that Boggin.'**_

_'bloggin'_

_**'Yes, I'm sorry, Bloggin. I do have trouble remembering your name, I have a lot else to think about at the moment.'**_

Gradually, as he listened to the intercourse between the two, the elf came to realise that he had made an initial mistake. It was not the muddy blue that was seated in Gandalf's consciousness, but the other way around. Also, if Legolas had thought before that the hobbits' grasp of mindspeak was limited, he was swiftly revising that view as he listened to the little blue thing talking to the wizard. What in Middle-earth could it be?

Mithrandir was hiding his consciousness in another being, but what that creature was Legolas could not tell. But as he began to rejoice at the realisation that the wizard was alive, dimly, voices began to intrude upon his thoughts again.

**_'Would you like to practice what you have to say?'_**

_'sluurol ik balg glup ma?'_

**_'Yes - I think you should.'_**

_'ougt plowd?'_

_**'Yes, say it out loud, no one's listening to you and I want to make sure you've got it right.'**_

_"knock! knock!"_ Bloggin began.

**_'You do not need to do the sound effects."_** It seemed to Bloggin that his mind was laughing at him.

_'glup plog ig!'_

_**'Yes I know what I said, but...'**_

**"Peregrin Took! What did I tell you?" **Bloggin made everyone, including himself, jump with shock as he suddenly shouted across the courtyard at the rump of a receding horse. The little orc dropped the stew with a clatter and slapped both hands across his mouth in horror, afraid that more angry words would bellow out of his interfering brain, drawing attention, and possibly danger, to his presence.

The horse paused for a moment and the two small riders turned to see where the big voice that sounded so familiar had come from. But all they saw were several orcs milling about and one very small and scruffy orc staring at them with its hands clasped over its mouth.

As it was, most of the orcs around him snorted in derision, deciding the small creature was obviously demented, while a few others snarled and invited him to "fug off!"

Bloggin's mind, on the other hand, spluttered with annoyance. **_'You were not supposed to say THAT out loud.'_**

_'gloooop blugg!'_

**_'Did I?'_**

_'gup!'_

**_'Well it's done now._'** His contrary mind sighed, **_'you'd better get after them – quickly now.'_**

The horse had started up again and Bloggin had to run as fast as his small legs would pump. "Wait, please Sirs, please!" Bloggin caught up with the boots of the great Uruk just as they were leaving the confines of the courtyard. "Cap'n! It-it's me – it's Bloggin!"

"Bloggin, what the fug are you doing here?" Smagnu looked around frantically, expecting to see the White Wizard as well.

"What go happerningned… happynering… **_happenings_**?" Pippin finally managed, "Where go be Gandalf he?"

"I don't know, Sir Little Pip Sir," Bloggin gasped, "But I got a message in me 'ead an' it says I gotta come wiv yer. I dun't know why – but I dursn't like to argufy wiv me 'ead. It gets quite cross wiv me if'n I does!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Legolas snapped to with a shudder. He could no longer ignore the insistent clamour of pleas for him to awaken. Éowyn was calling to him out loud and Gimli was even trying to awkwardly touch his mind again.

**_'LEgOlAs! LEgOlAs! hEaRest tHoU voIcE oF I moRe!'_**

_'Gimli I hear you! I could not speak before as I was listening to Gandalf.'_

**_'GanDAlf lIEs hErE wIthOuT sEeiNG noR WAkiNg frOm dEEpesT SLumBEr'_**

_'Gimli I can hear you if you speak out loud – and probably understand you much better!'_

"Aye, sorry laddie, I was forgetting." Gimli saw Faramir frown as Éowyn nodded at him with a smile. The Lady had obviously also been following the silent conversation. "You say Gandalf was speaking to you?"

_'Not to me, but I felt his mind speak to another.'_ Legolas fell silent as he felt something else move on the edge of his thoughts_. 'I must not say more.'_

Gimli looked up at Aragorn, who was still tending to Gandalf. "His mind lives, Legolas has heard Gandalf, although he will not say where he is or what he is doing."

"Can you ask him more?" Aragorn looked hopefully at the elf. "It is critical for our strategy. I cannot tell for sure how long this truce will last or how long I should want it to last. The enemy is regaining strength, even as we are."

"No my Lord Aragorn," Éowyn had also been listening carefully to Legolas, although she had not dared to speak in his mind for fear of attracting unwanted attention. "Something draws near again to his thoughts. Wherever Gandalf has gone, Legolas fears to direct that presence towards him and if he were to mention Gandalf's whereabouts or reasons, he might do that."

Éowyn gasped and reached out for Gimli, who took her hand, while Aragorn quickly moved to her side and took her other. Faramir scowled and kicked at an innocent weed that had managed to grow through the gap in the canvas floor and avoid being trampled so far. "What is it Éowyn?" Aragorn saw a pang of hurt in her eyes, before she bit down to renew a resolve.

"Legolas is in peril, not I!" Éowyn pulled away and went to the elf. "Do you not sense it Gimli?"

"I do," the dwarf agreed, "he is standing guard over… over… I don't know. Something in his mind that he must protect."

"A pathway," Éowyn added, "Gimli we must stop listening, we are helping it. Let Legolas manage this alone."

"But what is it?" Faramir asked wishing yet again that he were privy to these strange unspoken conversations. "What has found him now?"

"I'm not certain," Éowyn spoke in a hushed and cautious whisper, "but it is something very powerful, possibly the Dark Lord Himself."

"But what exactly is he guarding?" Faramir persisted.

"He seems to be watching over something… I don't know," Gimli shook his head as if to see the image more clearly, "a colour, I'm not sure but I think it's a muddy shade of blue."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Frodo was breathing hard, panting to try and catch his errant breath, "Thi…sss… this way! Come on Ss…ssam… We have to hurry…"

Samwise did his best, but somehow Frodo had found a hidden reserve of energy all at once and was keeping just ahead of him all the time. "Please Mr Frodo, slow down a little, you'll be burning yourself right up if you go so fast and besides…" Sam sank down onto the rocks, his body finally giving up the race in protest, "We'll never catch up with that Gollum, he goes at a fair lick at the best of times."

Frodo looked back and, seeing Sam slumped down on the rocks, halted and came back with a sigh, "We ha-ss to, Sam. You doesn't underss-stands." Frodo was still puffing as he spoke, his words sounding sibilant and harsh against the cold morning mist. "It'ss… it's ess-ssential we catch up. You doess…n't… doesn't know what it'll do!"

"No!" Sam's voice suddenly took on an air of authority, "you just sit yourself down here and get your breath or you'll be in no state to catch anyone or anything, if you take my meaning." Realising that his master was about to protest, Samwise caught hold of Frodo's arm and forced him down beside him on the ground. "I ain't going to argue with you Mr Frodo, but you told me to watch out for something odd – well in so many words you did – and this seems very odd to me."

"Let go of us!" Frodo tried to pull his arm free so he could stand again, but Sam was too strong and easily held him in place. "Sam, S…ssam! You doesn't ss-sees it! It's as-as if an endlesss silver strand iss…is entwined around uss.." Frodo fretfully ran his hands around his neck, "…and st-sstrangling us! But that'ss why S-ssam it'ss leading us on and on to find… find…"

"No! Frodo, stop!" Sam clutched at Frodo's shoulders and shook him until his eyes focussed once more on his surroundings. "Listen to yourself! You sound like him, what's happened to you? It's that Gollum – he's got inside you and now you're not thinking straight!"

"He'ss not inside me…" Frodo's eyes started to glaze again, "We're… we… I mean I-I'm in him… that is I see and hear… Sam! Hold me… Stop me… Please Sam!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Too many orcsess! Too many my Precious, Sméagol can't catches the orcsess – not without the Precious." Gollum peered over the edge of a rocky precipice watching the stragglers and reinforcements of Sauron's army make their way towards the Black Gate. "What musst we does?" The creature drew back and sat on his heels, rocking back and forth. "We's got to get The Pippin!" He wrung his hands in a strangling motion, a growing habit with every mention of the hated name. As much as Gollum had feared and revered Frodo as Master of the Precious, he loathed and detested the very mention of Pippin's name. "He not even finded the Precious! Why doess It go to The Pippin! Orcsess not kill The Pippin, Shelob – She not eating The Pippin! We knows why! The Precious is saving The Pippin for Sméagol! The Precious wants Sméagol to kill The Pippin dead as dead as dead!"

Gollum looked again at the terrain below him again. "Why does we runs and runs? The Pippin is coming! We knowses it! We feelsess the Precious on his scrawny necksess." Once more Gollum turned to perch on his heels and whispered into the air, "Masster feels It too and we knows what he thinks. Masster iss hates The Pippin too. He wantss the Precious all for hiss-owns-self." He looked up as if speaking to someone, "Doessn't you Masster? You wants to wrings The Pippin by the throats and break off hiss heads! Then takes the Precious off his silly, silly little neck. We knows why, Masster – doessn't we!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Nooooo! Sam! Sam! We can't… We musstn't!"

"What Mr Frodo? Mustn't what?" Sam still held Frodo by the shoulders, "Don't be afraid Frodo, I won't let you hurt Pippin."

"B-but Sam, it's the only way to get It back in one piece!" Frodo's eyes rolled involuntarily as a wave of dizziness swept over him, "Pippin won't be able to let It go! We can't destroy the Ring unless It is whole again. I'll have to take It from him. I'll have to force him to give It up! Sam he won't let It go. He's only young, he'll never be able to fight Its power."

"Well Mr Frodo," Sam held the shaking shoulders firmly, forcing Frodo to look him in the face, "There's only one solution. You'll have to give **_your_** Ring to Master Pippin!"

Frodo suddenly calmed and went immobile in Sam's grasp. His face took on an air of confident tranquillity, more shocking to Samwise than his frantic Gollumesque ravings had been. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and he spoke softly, "Dearest cousin he may be, but – give him my Ring? I'd kill him first or die myself trying."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Majdi Rann watched as the Uruk slung the halfling over his shoulder and stalked across the courtyard, then the man slammed the door and made his way quickly back to Phunnie's chamber. The Mouth of Sauron stood in the centre of the room while the rest of his servants clad him in his full armour, save the helm. "Master," Majdi bowed respectfully, "the halfling is despatched to Barad-dûr; an Uruk Captain came for it."

"So, at last, something is done as I have ordered." The Mouth snarled the words, "What of the other? The halfling held by the Wizard?"

"That too," Majdi reported. "The Uruk Captain took both with him. One he had already, seated upon the whiteskins horse, he placed the other with it and took them together."

"My orders have been executed with uncommon haste," the Mouth's face twisted into a cruel sneer, "I wished to inspect the newly captured halfling, why was it sent forth without informing me?"

"Master," Majdi bowed low again. "The Uruk Captain claimed he had orders. The halfling had been placed in his keeping, I assumed this was done with your authority and that the Uruk was Lord Sauron's messenger."

"Fool!" The Mouth spat the word, "When did I leave this room to issue such an order? How would a messenger arrive so rapidly from Barad-dûr? There is something amiss in this transaction!"

"I will stop them." Majdi turned for the door but his exit was halted by a signal from his Master to the other servants who leapt forward and barred his way.

"Hold!" The Mouth snapped in anger, "If this has gone awry, you shall be the one to take the news to Lord Sauron, not I."

Majdi turned again, a sinking feeling in his belly that his instinct about the odd little halfling having a devastating effect on his life was beginning to come about and not in a good way. "Master, I was sure the messenger was in earnest, how else would he have known of the halfling or where he was to be taken?"

"That is not my concern or yours," the Mouth waved his hand as he walked past Majdi to the door, "your concern is to do my bidding and mine alone. If you have caused the halflings to escape your head will pay the price. I shall question these fools myself to see what has occurred, attend me."

As they stepped out into the courtyard, they were greeted by a tumult of noise from the other side of the square. Orcs were shouting at one another and swords were being drawn as accusations flew thick and fast.

"Yer took it off yerself, yer stinking lump o' pus!"

"Yeah an' you'd be sayin' dat to keep the fuggin finger offun yer own carcass!"

"I'll take yer fuggin skull offun your stinking neck yer scum-suckin' piece o' crap!"

"An' I'll stick that sword up yer bleedin' arse if yer tries!'"

"'Ere you!" A mighty Uruk grabbed the little orc that had let Bloggin out in all innocence, "you were s'posed to be in charge o' the prisoners! "What the fug 'appened to that little rat what we put in 'ere? Eh! Eh!" The Uruk shook the small orc until his eyes were crossed more than usual and he could barely answer, even if he had anything to say.

"Put it down you fool!" The Mouth, followed by his anxious entourage, strode over to the melee. "Put it down and hold it still so it can speak." The terrifying man loomed over the little orc, making it wet itself in terror. "Speak quickly – who took the halfling?"

"D-d-d-dun't know M-m-mm-m-mast-t-t-ter!" the small orc still shook although the Uruk no longer was the cause, fear alone had taken over. "it-t-t-t…it gotted out on it-itself! Honest! Lord… Master… Y-y-your Worshipfulness!"

"How the fug could it!" The Uruk clouted the little orc across the head, "Yer must've let it out! How did it get out on itself?"

"M-m-magic Sir?" The orc scrabbled on the ground where it had landed, feeling around for a gnarled tooth that had fallen out with the clout. "It gotta be. I woodunt o' dared to let it out… I'd be too scardified of you S-s-sirs. It gotta be magic!"

"Cursed idiots!" The Mouth spun round to his servants, "kill all of these fools, then get after the wretched halflings and bring them back! Take as many of these stupid orcs as you need, but do not fail me again, I shall expect you back here in an hour with two halflings and as many heads as you need to hew to get them. Fail or flee and I shall have you hunted down and kept alive for as long as possible." The Mouth spoke no more, but, with an imperious swish of his long cloak, strode back to the sanctuary of the General's quarters.

The Mouth's servants knew well what he had meant. A lingering death in the Tower of Barad-dûr was a far worse fate than they would deal out to the squabbling orcs in the courtyard. They bowed as their Master left then, drawing swords to despatch the doomed creatures, they spun around, blades glinting in the early morning light. Not an orc was to be seen.

"We must make haste!" Vimta Ludd was the next in line to Majdi and in fact coveted his superior's position. "Come Rann… where is Rann?"

The other two servants looked all about, but, just as silently and mysteriously as the orcs, Majdi Rann had apparently vanished into thin air.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Oi! You pair o' scum-licking lice!" Smagnu snarled at his prisoners, "shut yer fuggin' noise or I'll shut it fer yer." As Shadowfax started his poised trot. Bloggin ran at the Uruk's feet, frantically trying to keep up, but they were still passing through the massed orc armies and consequently going quite slowly.

Pippin's jaw dropped in indignation as he looked down at the Uruk, but then closed as he followed the great beast's gaze to the legions of orcs all around them and he saw the reason for his Uruk's coarse reprimand. Pippin had been so wrapped up in Merry that he failed to notice the thousands upon thousands of eyes following their progress as Shadowfax skilfully manoeuvred a path through the gawping mass of troops awaiting orders to stream back through the Black Gate and rip the waiting army to shreds. "Shhhh, hush My Mer…" Pippin tried to sooth his distraught cousin again. "Is you hurted? Is you thirsteries? Is you too much sadness? We does know what you is too happery and get We Smag back at you."

"We Smag is just being so much rude at We for pretendering" Pippin reassured his distraught cousin, wondering if that were the cause of his worry. "Not don't but meaning nothing at We."

Pippin was baffled at the lack of sound from Merry but, apart from that, he was so ecstatic to see him again, especially as he appeared to be more or less all in one piece, he could barely stop himself from bouncing up and down with sheer delight. Instead he pressed his palm into Merry's face and nuzzled into the warm neck in front of him, muttering over and over, _"My Mer… got you go safe now… safe now…" _Pippin seemed to miss the irony of his words as, travelling through Mordor with an Uruk and a small orc, pushing their way through a massive enemy army in the direction of Barad-dûr on a quest to destroy the Ring of Power in Mount Doom, was not a particularly safe position to be in, but, in his joy at being reunited with Merry, Pippin was not considering the future at that moment.

Nevertheless, danger claimed them once more as several orcs surged forward trying to grab at the odd little imps. Most of Sauron's soldiery were filled with bloodlust and all of them were hungry. But either Shadowfax sidestepped their attempts or they finished up on the end of Smagnu's fist or boot. "Gerroff! You filthy rat-spawn – these ain't fer the likes o' yer!"

After a few casualties had occurred and the Sergeants, angry at the disturbance in their ranks, had wielded their whips to good effect, the harrying ceased and the clamouring orcs fell back in the wake of the white horse and its strange burden.

Eventually they reached the outskirts of the massed orc battalions and Pippin grabbed tightly to Shadowfax's mane, "Shadowingfaxes please you go stop now littlel minutes. We got go see roundabout if My Merry not be so good yet he!"

Shadowfax pulled up abruptly at the hobbit's words, so much so that Smagnu ran into the back of the horse. "Whass! Little Pip, what you up to now?"

"You got lifting We downs Smag," Pippin explained, "We got see what My Merry getting on with he. Onerly for not a minute. And as well…" Pippin nodded towards Bloggin, "We not knowed why you got bringing your that one orc Boggin, but he gone go run out of legs soon."

"Bloggin?" Smagnu regarded the small orc, who was obviously grateful for the respite and was sitting on a rock puffing and panting, trying to get his breath back. "He's no bother and I couldn't leave him behind. Besides, he makes a fair pot of stew." Smagnu was honestly not too sure himself why he had let Bloggin tag along, but it had seemed like the natural thing to do, but Little Pip was right, the orc would soon run out of stamina. In fact he had always planned to get a horse for himself once they were safely inside the Black Gate, now it was even more imperative.

Smagnu looked warily around and then led the way to the lee side of a hill that would shelter them from most prying eyes and some of the cold. "You wait here then Little Pips," he lifted first Pippin down and then Merry, looking critically at the latter with squinting eyes. "What do you think is wrong with him Little Pip? I think he can see now anyway."

"We think My Merry go scattercakes in he heads, Smag." Pippin waited while the Uruk untied his wrists and then he gently ran his hand over his cousin's cheek, "How you go get such big hurt on you face My Mer? Did you go fall down? No – you got hit someone on you. Don't be upsetting you all again… Sorry We… Sorry Merry!" Pippin realised with dismay that he had made Merry tearful once more and drew him down to sit beside him on the ground, hugging and patting the trembling, sobbing hobbit.

Pippin tugged at Smagnu's coat, "You go got some poppy Smag?"

"Your wizard said you weren't to have any." Smagnu shrugged at the halfling, "I don't know why, but thass what he sayed."

"You not got let Gandalf go bossing We round and he not even be here, Smag," Pippin put on his best exasperated tone, "and We only needs it give My Mer. Think it make he go bettrer?"

"No," Smagnu eyed New Little Pip critically, "I think it make he go sleep!"

"Well it make We go bettrer anyhow." Pippin was never one to miss a chance, "You go got some then?"

"Urum! Scusing your pardon, Mr Pippin Master Sir," Bloggin had been following the exchange with interest and now his mind was urging him to say something, "I dursn't thinks you ought to give Master New Little Pip no poppyjuice. Seems like to me he already got some in him and more might do him real badly, if you're 'scusing me for saying so, Mr Pippin Sir."

Pippin eyed the little orc suspiciously, "We thinks you go talkering too much at Gandalf. What he go say at you when you did that ridering with he?"

"Nothing, your Honour Mr Pippin Sir! He just… I dusn't know why." Bloggin was still confusingly at odds with his own mind, which was currently informing him not to let Peregrin Took take, or feed to his cousin, any variety or form of opiate, especially that obtained from _Papaver Somniferus, _commonly known as the poppy flower.

Bloggin paused and banged his hand on his head a couple of times as if to make it work better. "No," he informed Pippin, "me 'ead still saying yous twos not to take none o' that poppy even if'n the Cap'n's got some." He looked worriedly up at Smagnu then back to Merry and Pippin, "If yer pardon me mouth fer sayin' what's in me head, Your Worships."

"Well I ain't got none, nohow," Smagnu decided it best to put the decision to rest once and for all. In fact he had a small supply but he agreed with Bloggin that New Little Pip looked like he had already been dosed with poppy and more was not going to help. "Look Little Pips, you wait here, I saw some horses back there," Smagnu nodded in the direction they had come from, "I'll have one, no trouble. There's only 3 or 4 orcs tending 'em and they look a good lot an' all."

"You want We come help at you Smag?" Pippin offered helpfully, "You need We go and kill some orcses at you Smag?"

"I'll manage," Smagnu asserted, looking down at the tiny hobbit, slightly bemused at his offer, "You just wait here and don't get into any trouble."

"What 'bout me Cap'n?" Bloggin offered, "I can do summat."

Smagnu considered this offer and decided it was only slightly less ludicrous than Little Pip's. He drew a long bladed knife from his boot and handed it to Bloggin. "I know yer more used to handling a ladle, but if yer can stand guard on these two, that'd be a big help."

"Yus, Cap'n!" Bloggin saluted and took the knife, adopting a guarding stance in front of the two hobbits as the Uruk vanished around the hill in pursuit of transport.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"You! Phunnie, get me a contingent of orcs – good ones." Vimta Ludd had taken command now that Majdi was missing and finally managed to track down the General. "Quick as you can. We've got to get after those halflings. There have been dire mistakes made over this and I don't intend to suffer the consequences."

"Well it weren't my fault," General Phunnie was most anxious not to attract any blame over the matter of the missing halflings, especially as the men's boss had already ordered the execution of those involved. "I wasn't even there, it was your friend, Majdi Rann what handed him over."

"If you weren't there how do you know that?" Vimta too was not planning on being blamed. "You were in charge of the prisoner, even if you were not there at the time."

"Well Major Spicku was on gaol duty at the time," Phunnie decided, "It must have been the other halfling that got ours, I'll see he's sent to you at once."

"No!" Vimta was more anxious to get the halflings back than to attribute blame amongst the orcs. He could not care which one got blamed or which heads were hewn as long as it was not his. "Just get me a contingent of orcs to go after them – now!"

Phunnie hurried off to find anyone that he could plant the blame on and send off after the cursed halflings. "Oi! You Spicku, get over here."

"General," Spicku saluted, nervous that he knew what was coming, "Sair!"

"We need a contingent to go after those halflings you let escape." Phunnie confirmed his subordinate's fears.

"Yer mean that one what we locked up in the cell?" Spicku asked, even though he knew the answer. "Your one must've rescued it."

"No," The General was having none of this, "I kept mine safe enough. Yours must've been the one that escaped."

Spicku rattled the bars of the cage to show how solid they were, "'ow'd it get out then?"

"Dunno Major, but it did an' all." Phunnie was desperate not to be held responsible for this mess. "See I'd looked after the one what I got, but your little rat, must've got in 'ere an' rescued it."

"See – they do say that these little ratlings is magic," Spicku had heard the rumours like most of the orcs. "They can change shape an' they can spellbind an orc just by lookin' at 'im."

"Yeah!" Phunnie agreed, "'cause the one what did the rescue – your one, he had this great Uruk wiv 'im an' he was the one what took the other orf out of 'ere!"

"See an' I knows they got this elvish weapon on 'em." Spicku looked uneasily at the other orcs to make sure none of them were laughing, but none were, "I 'eard it's so powerful that the Great One Himself wants it!"

"I got a taste o' that meself!" Phunnie rubbed at the cut on the back of his hand, "Nearly 'ad me fuggin' arm off it did."

Well – I ain't goin' after it!" Spicku declared, "You can put a knife in me 'eart right 'ere an' now – but that's powerful magic an' I ain't meddlin'!"

"None o' the orcs'll go after 'em." Phunnie agreed, "Yer can only kill us once an' then yer ain't gonna get none left to go arter 'em noways!"

It was gradually dawning on General Phunnie and Major Spicku, along with the rest of the assembled orcs, that they would sooner part company with their heads, than go after the enchanted and mysterious little imps who obviously wielded some great magic and were also, worryingly, wanted by the Great Lord Sauron. Phunnie would have ordered his underlings to go in his stead but he knew the orcs were badly spooked now. Orcs were very suspicious of magic of any kind, and he would have a mutiny on his hands and probably a knife in his back, if he tried to order them.

"I ain't gonna sort it with the bosses out there, neither." Phunnie jerked a thumb back towards where Vimta and his cohorts were saddling up their horses and preparing to set off. "They can just fug off and find their stinking little rats on their own."

"Yeah right!" A general mutter of approval for Phunnie was taken up and the orcs gradually melted away, each to his own business, whilst the Major and the General slammed and locked the door and sat down on the trestle with their boots resting on the long bench table.

"Grog?" Spicku offered amiably, drawing out his flask and offering it to Phunnie.

"Don't mind if I do, Major." Phunnie took the flask and slurped down a long draught. "Glad we got that sorted. Trolls, dragons, wizards or Nazgûl, even decapitation I can handle." Phunnie wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, "But them little hobbit things! Gonna steer well clear of them from now on."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Merry?" Pippin pulled himself back a little so that he could look at the distraught hobbit again once Smagnu had left, "You see where you go be? And you not so much sadness when you get your Pippin back at you now!"

Merry sniffed and made an effort to regain his composure. He stared hard at Pippin and shook his head, putting his hand over Pippin's mouth once more.

Pippin gently pulled the hand away and patted it. "Why you go doing that on We mouths? It go bad for We speakering at you."

Bloggin suddenly felt compelled to say something again, "P'raps, Mr Little Pip Sir, p'raps he dun't know what you're saying! Mebbe he's thinks you are… are um… **_mindspeaking. _**But what that is, dun't ask me."

Pippin frowned at Bloggin and tried to explain to the simple creature. "It not be that. Listen Boggin, he thinkering go downside upwise and My Mer not knowed what happerning no more. He just… mmmuu…mmmeemm…"

Merry slammed his hand to Pippin's mouth again, a panic-stricken look upon his face.

"No, see," Bloggin tried once more, "he thinks you is talking in your head."

Pippin looked at Bloggin, his message sinking in at last, and then looked back at Merry. "No it good My Mer." Pippin frowned "We not talkering in We heads. Pippin talkering out in We's mouths – it's truth! See We whispering somethings at you – like this, _soft and soft. _Promsis Merry – it be good. Pippin's talkering words go higgle and piggle and We not knowering why."

Merry looked bewildered by this and tried to speak again, but nothing came. He clutched his arms around his legs and rocked to and fro, his head resting on his knees as Pippin sat beside him and stroked his hair. "It go be all right Merry, everythings is all right now."

Gradually Pippin dragged his cousin's arms away from his knees and lifted his chin up and smiled at his dear Merry, drawing him into a long gentle embrace. "Please trying to say somethings at We, My Mer." Pippin whispered, "maybehap you is – hungeringly… hungerly…" Pippin took a breath and bit his lip with concentration, "**_hungry!" _**he finally managed, "See what We's gots."

He rummaged in his britches' pocket and brought out a sticky twist of paper. "Gandalf gived We these and they go be bit older now but We saving some for My Merry all of this times. Pippin go 'membering what they is My Merry's most favours!" With some difficulty Pippin managed to detach one gooey sherbet lemon from the rest and popped it in Merry's mouth.

Merry blinked with surprise. His emotions had been fluctuating between tears of shock and relief and fear at Pippin's apparent mindspeaking. But he was now beginning to realise that Pippin was just talking very strangely and that perhaps he was not going to die after all. He began to suck on the sweet in his mouth, the sharp lemon flavour bringing back happy memories of peace and The Shire and Pippin and Frodo and Sam and Bilbo. Sherbet lemons had always been a Bilbo specialty and he would dole them out to small cousins with a constancy that made parents despair of their children's teeth.

"No crunchering now!" Pippin warned. To crunch a sherbet lemon was a heresy, they must be sucked until the lemon shell finally broke down, releasing the sharp, sweet sherbet inside. To crack it open with your teeth before the sweet was fully sucked was to spoil the whole effect. "You always do go crunchering Merry."

"Don't!" Merry protested.

"Do!" Pippin rejoined.

"Don…ant… I- I…" Merry realised that subtly Pippin had managed to trick him into speaking again. "Pip? Pippin!"

"Is all right Merry love. We knewed you go talkering soon for your Pippin."

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**To Be Continued**

**_Author's Notes:_** I'm so, so sorry! And so is my friend and beta Marigold. She just had to go and get married and, just to complicate things, discover two weeks before the wedding that she had the wrong visa to get married with. Getting the right visa meant she had to fly back to LA and apply there as it has to be obtained from your last American address! Of course I had to go with her.

While this meant we also managed a jolly hobbit moot, it also, along with Christmas, New Year, family commitments, helping to arrange her wedding, etc. poor ol' Recap got abandoned again. I'm thinking of reporting myself for gross fic neglect – there must be a law!

Please forgive me and, if you do, I promise the next one will be hard on the heels of this.

Abject grovelling for forgiveness over, on to the Q&A:-

**_Latanya Kassidy:_** wow! I just spent a few days reading this entire story and I must say I will be very upset if you do not finish it.  
**_Llinos:_** Hi Latanya, I admire your persistence. I too will be upset if I don't finish this story, so I'd best try and keep us both happy.

**_Pip4_**  
It's going to be interesting to see how it will work out with Smagnu trying to protect them and then have Majdi try to save Merry.  
**_Llinos:_** Yes I'm a bit worried about that too. I hope Majdi doesn't do anything silly.

**_Sam:_** One question though. I don't have time to re-read this story right now but so far, Frodo has carried the Ring and so has Pippin. But did Sam still carry it after Frodo was captured?  
**_Llinos:_** Yes – the point at which we meet Frodo and Sam is just after Sam has given the Ring back to Frodo and is looking for clothes for him. Chapter 74 Recaptured II _frodosam_  
**_Sam_** This brings me, finally, to my question. Is Merry ever going to carry the Ring?  
**_Llinos:"_**Ah that I cannot tell" quoth she, "For that is not yet History!"

**_Heather:_** Hey I read this ages ago and used to review but have been away for a while. Just reread both sections and would very much like another chapter to read as I'll miss reading it.  
**_Llinos_**: Thanks for coming back and reviewing again, and I'm happy to oblige – one new chapter – as ordered.

**_Kookaburra:_** Hi Llinos! Amid all the holiday hubbub I've finally gotten a chance to catch up on Recap.  
**_Llinos_**: Hi Kooks, I've had the same probs with writing it – but you know that:)

**_Tazmyn_**: YES! They're back together! Was this worth the long, LONG wait? I'd think so. It definitely earned lots of reviews!  
**_Llinos_**: It's the reviewers that keep me writing.

**_Baylor_**: Once again, I'm impressed at your use of original characters. Bloggin and Smagnu are like old friends now,  
**_Llinos_**: Well anytime they can help out I'll send them over. Bloggin can make you some stew and Smagnu can rip off any heads you don't like.

**_Marigold Cotton_**: Another wonderful chapter that has left me anxious and on the edge of my seat to see what happens next!  
**_Llinos_**: Now then – you know as much as I do – which isn't much!

**_pipinheart_**: Merry, I feel so sorry for him, he has been through so much...  
**_Llinos_**: You're making me feel guilty, like it was my fault.

**_Arte_** : In regards to my friends, they were really into it until I mentioned the number of chapters... then their enthusiasm dwindled.  
**_Llinos_**: Just tell them it's lots of little stories – just a large anthology.  
_snips v. nicely written long review for space_  
**_Arte:_** Is this a long review? I think so. That mean's you'll write faster, right? Please do! I have to admit, I'm as hooked on this story as Pip was on that poppy. Don't keep us waiting this time, I beseech you!  
**_Llinos_**: Yes – and thank you. And yes I will write faster – you're right!  
PS: Yes, his name is Grutfley, although Merry calls him Grumpfly.

**_Tash:_** I also had to laugh at Flatnose and Pip, misunderstanding each others' nonsense LOL! A little difficult to decipher, admittedly, but very fun!  
**_Llinos_**: Oh but easier to read than to listen to. Poor Flatnose.  
**_Tash_** (your own little Pip)  
**_Llinos_**: For those who are wondering, I do an RP with **_Tash_** in which she plays Pippin and I play Merry and an Uruk called Nagash who is quite sweet and lovable once you get to know him.

**_melilot hill: _**I had to read this chapter twice, because the first time I was so eager I kept skipping parts :)  
**_Llinos_**: I always do that too. I'm a slow reader and I like to know the end so I can take my time getting there. Wish I knew where this story was going to end. You got a palantír I could borrow?

**_ziyal_**: aw...poor Merry...he has been through so much! And now a rescue? I cannot believe it!  
**_Llinos_**: I could hardly leave him to be devoured by the dragon – I do not want to be hung from the Black Gate by my fingernails by a horde of angry readers!

**_Breon Briarwood:_** Oh my, now we have Gandalf mind speaking to Bloggin? Where will it all end?  
**_Llinos_**: Well as long as Bloggin doesn't notice, it should be all right!

**_auntiemeesh_**: I won't be happy until I know that Merry and Pippin are together again. They've been separated and damaged too many times, they need a break!  
**_Llinos_**: Ah! You've been listening to Marigold too much – she keeps saying that. When this is over, you can send them on a nice little cruise to Hawaii, where they can hang out and build sandcastles and go surfing. How's that?

**_dwina_**: I saw the link to this on M.E.N. and thought I would take a look. I'm so glad I did. I'm relieved there was a synopsis of what I'd missed because this is a great story! I hope to start from the beginning over Christmas vacation because I don't want to miss a word. Thanks!  
**_Llinos_**: Hello dwina. Gosh, your review made me realise that I haven't updated since before Crimble! (hangs head in abject sorrow and shame)

**_Hai Took_**: SQUEE! I couldn't believe there was a new chapter! I've actually gone through and read it twice.  
**_Llinos_**: Good! That means I can count you as two readers?  
**_Hai Took_**: As ever I'm on the edge of my seat and waiting as patiently as I can manage!  
**_Llinos_**: I'm so sorry to have kept you this long – I really hope the edge of your seat wasn't too uncomfortable. Feel free to yell at me if I leave you in a precarious position again.

**_Blossom_**: I imagine Gandalf will be non too pleased, Pip will have to really turn on his Tookish charm.  
**_Llinos_**: Ah but Gandalf's in no position to have a go at him just now, what with being disembodied in a small orc!  
**_Blossom_**: Continuing with this will make up for not having a LOTR film to watch at the cinema this year  
**_Llinos_**: _Blush_ – don't deserve that compliment – but thanks ever so.  
**_Blossom_**: but hey, there isn't a piece of work you're involved in that I don't love – even if MR had some decidedly icky bits!  
**_Llinos_**: Oh yes – MR was icky – but it's finished now. Have you read **_Eastgate_** btw?  
**_Blossom:_** Go feed the knitted ones some more and then keep writing...  
_**Llinos**_: Feeding knittedhobbits is an endless and thankless task – but I shall (feed and write that is).

**_Samwise The Strong_**: Waiting room? There's a waiting room? Why doesn't anybody tell me these things!  
**_Llinos_**: Of course there's a waiting room – it's regulation for fics over 30 chapters with months in between updates.

**_Scarlet Angel4_**: Thank you for FINALLY updating! I thought I was gonna pass out when I checked today and saw that there was an update!  
**_Llinos_**: Gosh I'm feeling bad about this.  
**_Scarlet Angel4: _**MR er... wait... whoops! Habit!  
**_Llinos_**: Opps – I thought you said _'hobbit'_ there for a mo. Ah at least I'm off the hook for that! Although you may still nag me for Eastgate if you wish.

**_Dreamflower_**: Now, more soon! (Marigold, don't put your stickses away!)  
**_Llinos_**: Hey – no fair – it was Marigold getting married and making me fly to LA that made me late in the first place. _PS I've confiscated her sticksess._

**_zarquin_**: And Merry has finally seen Smag, who is the coolest character ever:o)  
**_Llinos_**: Smag Rocks!

**_Lindelea1_**: I love Snoggin. Absolutely do. Wonder if he's anything like that Queensland Blue Heeler they had up for adoption over at the Humane Society...  
**_Llinos_**: Okay – now I have a question. What's a Queensland Blue Heeler? "_Snoggin"! ha ha!_


	38. Collision Course

**Collision Course  
****Recaptured – Chapter 130**

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

Pippin took Merry's face gently in his hands and ran his thumbs down the tear tracks on his dirty white cheeks. He looked quizzically into the blue eyes, holding Merry's attention firmly with his gaze, "What happened my Merr?" he whispered.

They were still sitting on the ground, waiting for Smagnu to come back with a horse, while Bloggin, his long bladed knife poised and arms akimbo, nervously stood guard over them.

Merry tried to look down but Pippin held his head up resolutely with both hands, his gaze fixed determinedly into Merry's glazed and sore eyes. "I knows you dursn't want to tell what go happen at yous, onerly… We does knows some and… and…" Pippin suddenly felt a shivery thrill run through his body. Holding Merry's face in his hands had abruptly brought the memory of how Legolas used to communicate with him when first he lost his speech and hearing. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

In his first fumbling attempts at mindspeaking, Pippin had felt like an infant learning to totter and being guided along by the firm hand of a grownup, but since then his mental control and powers had grown considerably. Without actually vocalising in their minds, Pippin could feel Merry's distress and shock. He pressed slightly further in, softly touching a thought here, a sensation there.

Merry started to pull away and reached up to take Pippin's hands from his face, but Pippin shook his head and whispered again, "It all righted Mer, We not mindspeakering, trusting me please."

But still Merry resisted. There was nothing pleasant to feel or touch in his mind right now, no recent memories that Pippin needed to see or sense, of that he was quite sure. "No, Pip, p-please don't. I think it w-will hurt you too."

"Please my Mer, knows what We doering, truly We does." Pippin placed a tiny kiss on Merry's nose as he lifted his cousin's face up once more. "We gotted do this, make we boths feel bettrer!"

"B-but Pip…" Merry, feeling the caress of Pippin's mind in his once more, was confused by his cousin's strange speech and accidentally lapsed for a moment, _'we not got go mindtalk at we each othrer._'

_'we not' _

_'is… is mindspeakering!'_

_'shhhh… hush We mer…'_

Pippin stroked Merry's face with his thumbs and simultaneously soothed his mind with lulling, melodious thoughts. They both fell silent as Pippin tenderly coaxed the pictures from Merry's psyche.

Bloggin watched with growing fascination as both hobbits maintained a perfectly still position, the slightly smaller one holding the other's face in his hands and gazing into his eyes as if for all the world he was about to kiss him. But he did not, he merely gazed and gazed. Bloggin's mind growled slightly at the sight and was about to make him say something but seemed to pause as if listening, then merely sighed, leaving Bloggin to observe the odd communion in puzzled silence.

At last Merry's mind relaxed under Pippin's firm insistence and a jumble of terrifying images and discordant screeches and screams tumbled into their joint consciousness, making Pippin gasp and Merry whimper with hurt and memory.

Merry was breathing fast as the mess of noise became a cacophony of pain. Jeering, snarling orcs, men shouting, great trumpeting wails from some impossible animal, his own tiny yelps and squeals, all mixed in with the shocking screech of the wraith's fell beast. The visions gradually coalesced into synchronization with the sounds and Pippin let his senses take over as he and Merry together were swept up in sharp vicious claws.

The bile rose in his mouth as Pippin vomited from the stench and stomach churning terror as they watched Drâmym and Ŭnomer recede until they became specks on the ground below.

Blessed blackness followed, only to be replaced with a worse nightmare. They were in a prison, a large cage, and a great dragon was clawing at them, picking them up and throwing them in the air like a cat plays with its catch. Raucous voices nearby offered no help, but instead were making book on how soon they might be eaten. Pippin could hear the odds being offered.

"We got 6 bets on Claw tearin' it to bits and spittin' the rope out. We got four wagers goin' at 5 to 2 she'll jest keep on playin' wiv it. Two who reckons it'll maim her wiv the sword an' get itself out o' there – I already called theirs bets in, 'cause they've lost – an' there's one 50 to 1 outsider says that she'll try ta screw it – but I fink they're just havin' a laugh!"

Pippin hugged Merry close to his heart and whispered, "not getted We, my Mer. Your Pip in heres now, they not gone go get you. We killded all they dragnons dead and gone firsttime and they try. You Pip here now, not let no things happen at you."

The scene moved and Pippin felt them being lugged about, hauled over orc shoulders and then thrown down again. They were stripped, poked, searched, redressed, clouted, pushed, snarled at, questioned with cuffs and blows. Pippin gasped with surprise, realising even the sensation of taste was shared, as the familiar tang of orc whiskey, heavily laced with poppy juice, was poured down their throats. Even as he squeezed Merry tightly in his mind and patted and soothed the dirty blond curls, Pippin let fall a sigh of pleasure at the poppy taste, especially when Legolas spoke in Merry's mind and said it was all right and not their fault.

Everything became dark and hazy for a long while, the last thing Pippin felt clearly was the faintest scent of Frodo, which seemed to make no sense, until he realised it was coming from his cousin's elven cloak. He felt the mithril scales cling coldly about his body and then whiskey and poppy juice dulled all senses. Even as the pictures blurred into black dreams, Pippin thought it was odd, the orc liquor and opium didn't usually have such a drastic effect on him. "Ahh!" Pippin whispered in Merry's ear, "this be how it makering **_you _**go feel, my Mer! It horridible at you. Try feeleded it like your Pippin feels it, which is not so much bad!"

**"Meeerrrryy!"**

The sound of his own voice in Merry's head was brutal and shocking and Pippin almost lost control for a moment, stunned by the terror they had both felt at that moment, the joint emotions reverberating through the younger hobbit, while Merry, still shocked and unable to deal with the horror, tried to steady himself against the shaken Pippin.

"Merr We knows, we knows, hold on you, hold on your Pip!" Pippin frantically clutched Merry to him, desperately trying to calm the frantic thudding of both their hearts.

Blackness.

Pippin felt himself spinning slowly round and round and up and up. It was unnerving, but not altogether unpleasant, except, Pippin could feel Merry's ragged fear-laced breathing. Not, he suspected, because of the pull on the rope, but for what waited at the other end.

Manhandled, Merry was slung over a wide shoulder and lugged down to the stone room again. Frantic with fear, they listened to the men's voices discussing food, Merry unsure if they were going to feed him or eat him.

Pippin's stomach heaved at the stench of the raw fish that was shoved into Merry's mouth, the taste not improving as his sickly cousin vomited the morsel back up. But the cacophony of swearing and abuse was strangely distant and unimportant and Pippin's eyes opened as he gazed with wonder into Merry's, the tears streaming down both their cheeks.

"Oh m-my Mer!" Pippin sobbed, unsure and uncaring if the stutter was his own or borrowed from his dear cousin, "you w-wanting go d-dead so you can't not say no things and you not go thinkering on youself!" A sob caught in Pippin's throat, "You m-most scrared you n-not say no things of We Fro and he gotted his…"

"Grraaaghhhh! Yarrrggghhh! Cum 'ere yer li'l rats!"

Both hobbits looked up in sudden terror and alarm. Their current predicament, sitting in Mordor on the edge of Sauron's great army, had been pushed aside for a while, but now came back with a vengeance as a thickset orc with 6 foot wide shoulders and half a face, reached out to grab Merry around the neck.

"Aiieeee! Run Pip… don't get… gret bluglushsshh!" Merry's voice was stifled by a great orc hand slammed across his mouth. He tried to kick backwards at his captor as he was lifted off the ground and wriggled frantically, but could not shake off the monster.

"Leave go! Get you pawgs off My Merry!" Pippin clutched desperately at the offending arm, swinging on the appendage as the orc appeared not to even notice him.

Another growl followed swiftly, as a second brute, this one skeletal with long jagged fangs that bit down into its own lower jaw, seized Pippin from behind. "Haw! Got's us two of the them little halfling beggars! Keep still yer louse, dun't wanna damage yer none, gets a better bounty if'n yer's 'hole!"

Pippin let loose a squeal as he was lifted around the waist and flung up into the air, as the orc hoisted him over his shoulder. Whilst still in the air Pippin heard two swift swishing noises, followed by two dull thumps – then a third, followed by his own grunt of pain. His journey into the air had ended painfully as he hit the ground, rather than the orc's shoulder. He had twisted and landed right side up, but his damaged feet were not particularly happy with the arrangement.

"Ow! We feets! Owow!" Pippin howled loudly before realising with a mild shock that the orcs now lay dead, the cause fairly obviously that their bodies had parted company with their heads. Fangs, who had tried to grab him, also had Smagnu's long bladed knife sticking out of his belly. "What happded? Merry?"

Merry was sitting on the ground, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Beside him lay the decapitated orc, its half face, several yards away, was turned grotesquely upwards as the single eye stared unseeingly at the dark sky and its tongue lolled out amidst black bile and green phlegm. "I-I think it was him, the little orc." Merry pointed uncertainly at Bloggin who was standing with Fangs' sword clasped in both hands, looking just as amazed and stunned as Merry.

"I-I's sorry your w-worships," Bloggin realised that both the hobbits were staring at him in disbelief, "did I does somefink wrong? Only me mind said to **_'Stab! Slice! Slice!_** and the next fing I knews – I'd sorta done it."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Majdi Rann was highly practised in the art of being invisible. Of course, he had no magic about him, being a mere mortal man, but fear and practice had honed his skill to the point where it had become second nature to quietly blend into his surroundings and silently melt away without being noticed.

When his master, the Mouth of Sauron, had ordered the halflings recaptured, Majdi had silently slipped away. His destiny was all at once revealed to him. It was to save the strange little creature, Pip, from his Lord or to die trying. He was probably going to die in the next few days in any case, he might as well attempt to carry out at least one noble deed before then.

Majdi's horse was already saddled, he had ordered it so while the orcs were trying to apportion fault for the loss of the halflings. He knew full well that the blame would eventually rest squarely with him and he had seen his master exact appalling retribution on his servants for far less a crime so there was no sense in waiting to see what his fate would be. Majdi Rann was not typical of the servants of Mordor; along with his sense of self-preservation, he had a modicum of principle.

He rode slowly at first, picking his way through the great army, stopping to demand every so often which way the Uruk and the two little creatures had gone. His first inclination had been to ride straight to Barad-dûr, but then he reasoned _why presume that's where they were headed?_ Nothing had turned out as expected in the past few hours and things seemed to change by the minute. Perhaps the monster of an orc had stolen the halfling away for nefarious purposes of his own. Majdi squirmed as he remembered the fear the small thing had emanated when he had handed him over. How he had tried to cling to Majdi, his previous tormentor, obviously in terror at being given to an even more dreadful captor.

Majdi regretted now every blow he had dealt to the quivering childlike creature. "Don't worry Pip," he muttered as he picked up speed now, "I mean to rescue you and kill that Uruk and take you far, far away from here if it's the last thing I do, which it probably will be."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Where did all those bloody orcs get to?" Vimta Ludd was not an even tempered man on the best of days and today was not even approaching good, let alone, best. "Oi you!" He managed to grab the ragged collar of a small scurrying creature with a hairy face and no apparent nose. "Where's General Phunnie?"

"Dunno Chief," The little orc was actually the one responsible for letting Bloggin escape, although he still did not realise his culpability in the action. "Last I sawed he wuz wiv Major Spicku, dey's told me to get sum 'osses fer yers."

"For them!" Vimta shook the little orc, "You need to get horses for them as well."

"Dun't fink so Chief," the orc managed to wriggle free of the man's grip, "dey says dey ain't goin' nowheres. But yer 'osses is right over dere." Pausing only to point briefly at the three saddled horses on the far side of the courtyard, the hairy faced orc scuttled off in the direction of the fell beasts, which he was due to feed, hopefully not with himself, if he got the job done properly.

"Oi you piece of sewage, come here! I'll… I'll…"

"Let it go," Tyza Groon, a recent addition to the Mouth of Sauron's entourage, put his hand on Vimta's arm, a daring manoeuvre at any time, but right now, almost suicidal, but he was new. "We need to find those halfling creatures. Majdi's got the right idea, I imagine he gave chase as soon as he knew they were missing."

"Cretin!" Vimta shook the arm away, "We're meant to kill at least half a dozen of these brutes to keep our Lord appeased!"

"We'll appease him better if we get the halflings," Tyza was getting nervous at the delay, "I'm starting out, with or without you."

Vimta snarled under his breath. He could not really fault Tyza's argument, but noted the dissention for future reference. With Majdi out of the way, he could well be next in line, but if he played his cards right, it would be Tyza who succeeded Majdi Rann and not he. It was not a promotion any one of them looked for. "Majdi is not chasing after the brats, of that I am sure. He is racing to save his own neck."

"How do you know?" Tyza glanced nervously at the fourth servant, a man called Irne Brewe, but he showed no sign of understanding Vimta either, "Why would he run?"

"Because he has been enthralled by that little rat," Vimta spat on the ground, "it is some kind of necromancer, for all it is so small. I heard the orcs talking and they're scared of it. No, he's been taken in by that creature, I saw how he was with it."

"So if we capture them will we be in danger?" Irne was very fearful of magic and wizards, "Maybe we should just say it got away."

"No! We need to overtake both Majdi and the halflings," Vimta was leading the way across the courtyard with his companions hastily in tow. "We need to bring them back and quickly. Before the wretches cause us any more trouble!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"What the fug's been going on here?" Smagnu leapt down from his newly acquired black stallion and, ignoring a threatening snort from Shadowfax, grabbed Pippin's arm. "Every time I leave you alone I come back to find a pile of dead orcs!"

"Not too much exaggeriatering Smag!" Pippin tried to wriggle free of the Uruk's grip, but failed, "We not do no things not. You got go ask your small orc there Blog, he go do his own job and We thinks so. Makes orcs leaves We Pippin and My Merry by we-selves thankering him very much."

"Blog?" Smagnu turned to the bemused little orc, who was standing on top of his felled enemies with his arms crossed and a nervous tic in one eye. "You do all this by yourself?"

"Well Cap'n, I had a bit o' help, you know, from me mind like!" Bloggin did not grasp it at all, but hoped his Captain would. Or perhaps those clever little hobbits could understand it. "Beggin' yer pardon Cap'n, but if'n yer can work out what I is a talkin' about, could yer explain it ter me as well?"

Smagnu snarled, his lip curling up over his spiked teeth, "None of it makes sense to me!" He caught hold of Bloggin's arm and leaned in close to hiss a warning, "it's my Little Pip, he's some kind of powerful wizard for all he looks so small – you'd best mind him if you know anything."

"Ha!" Bloggin pulled away from Smagnu with a sudden snort. "Wizard my beard! He's just a very naughty little hobbit! Now let's get on with this wretched business before we all get caught!"

"Bloggin you dursen't even got a beard and… and.." Pippin trailed off, there was something comfortably familiar in the little orc's officious words and, for some reason, Pippin did not want to pursue the matter, worried that he might get the answer he already suspected.

But he could not escape the guilty feeling he had often suffered in the past when caught out doing something he should not have done, especially by a certain wandering wizard. Pippin put his hands on his hips and turned four-square to face Bloggin, "We had to go get My Mer, I already tolded you **_that_**!"

"What are you talking about Pip?" Merry looked from the open-mouthed Smagnu to the nervous, albeit belligerent and bossy little Bloggin, to his exasperated cousin.

"Nothing, My Mer," Pippin propelled his cousin towards Smagnu to be lifted up onto Shadowfax, "We onerly thinks that littlel orcses spending too long with We Gandalf! Comling on, we bettrer get gone before that Boggin frits his ownself inside outerwards."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gimli watched Legolas with growing curiosity. The elf, although silent and apparently sleeping, was obviously engaged in an entertaining dream. At least, so a casual observer might have supposed, but Gimli, son of Glóin, knew better.

Gandalf, by contrast, lay quite still and, but for an intermittent rise and fall of his chest, appeared lifeless.

Gimli almost chortled out loud as he saw Legolas's mouth quirk up at the sides and at the same time, almost imperceptibly, the elf shook, as if in laughter. But the dwarf held his mirth at bay. It would not be seemly to guffaw in wounded quarters – especially with two such close friends, who were both grievously injured.

Nevertheless, as Legolas twitched another little smile, Gimli reached a tentative hand out and touched the elf's brow. He had been warned by Éowyn not to attempt further mental contact at this time. She, more experienced with that form of communication, had felt an ominous presence searching and thirsting for the blue silver light that Legolas was watching.

But as Gimli brushed his fingers lightly over Legolas's forrid he felt a crackle of energy and small blue sparks danced over his hand. The Dwarf pulled back at once and looked at his fingers in surprise and then back at the Elf. Legolas was frowning now.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Smagnu grinned a large orcish grin. They were making good time and he would have Little Pip and New Little Pip to Orodruin before you could say _purple dung_! He glanced behind him occasionally to check on his growing number of charges.

Bloggin was not so much seated, as tied to a black gelding, which Smagnu had also acquired on the premise that if they swapped horses halfway through the journey, the lighter orc's mount would be fresher and might stay the course with the great white wizard's horse.

Bloggin knotted his hands in the huge beast's mane and tried to follow his mind's instructions, _'**not to look down'**_, although it was tricky and tempting, as that way lay certain death with the chance for a nice rest. **_'Don't you dare!_**' Bloggin's mind warned him, '**_we need to keep an eye on those hobbits!"_**

_'plujg klop yorgs?'_

_**'I don't have my eyes with me, so I need to use yours. I am sorry for the intrusion Boggin…'**_

_'bloggin'_

_**'…yes, Bloggin, but you have to be patient!'**_

_'pugsh'_

_**'There's a good orc! Now see if you can turn and have a quick look at those two again.'**_

_'pugsh'_

Bloggin turned tentatively round and let his mind take a quick look at the two hobbits, both seated on the great white Kinghorse; the smaller one looking as if he were sitting on a stile.

"I… I missed you so m-much, Pippin." Merry held tightly around Pippin's waist, still luxuriating in every minuscule part of his cousin's being, his scent, his warmth, the sound of his voice… "And… and I thought…I… thought…" Merry gulped a sob away and concentrated on trying to relax into Shadowfax's steady rhythm.

"It all righted now my Merry," Pippin clucked to his cousin gently, "don't be go thinkering so bad."

"N-not bad," Merry voice was muffled with his rapid breathing and his face buried in Pippin's cloak, "I-I was frightened I'd never see you again! N-not seen you… since we were… were in Isengard… and…and…"

"My Merry, stop thinkering too muchly. It make you too much sadness!" In spite of the good pace at which they were moving, Pippin turned around on Shadowfax and smiled encouragingly, "You try make smile faces like We? Go on littlel pracsis?"

"Little Pip! Be Careful!" Smagnu was alarmed at his charge's gravity-defying acrobatics on board the mighty horse. "You could fall, then we'll have to stop to scrape your remains off the rocks."

"We not got to fall off Shadowingfaxes! He not let We!" Pippin had enough experience of riding the Lord of the Mearas to know that much.

Merry managed half a smile, partly at Pippin's banter with the Uruk-hai and his nonchalant approach to riding a horse five times bigger than any hobbit, even Bullroarer, would have attempted. Merry himself was hanging on grimly, not at all confident he would not fall, but reassured by his cousin's ease.

But mostly Merry's tentative smile was because of Pippin's funny speech. "Pip, why **_are_** you talking like that?" He sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, determined not to cry any more, "You sound… well… strange. What… what's happened to you?"

"Not don't knows," Pippin sounded mournful. He turned back to concentrate on the road and stop Smagnu from nagging him. "We sound not so oddly in We heads, but it comes inside-outwise when We talkering. Gandalf and We Legolas try and try go make We talkering bettrer but We not knowing how it got be done."

"But it… it doesn't mean you're ill does it?" Merry's voice halted anxiously, "There's nothing wrong with you is there Pip?

"Not so much We thinks," Pippin agreed, "It just We do head-talk out of loud, not know how go stop it."

"But you **_are_** hurt Pip," Merry frowned as if trying to remember something. "I can feel it and, now you're near, all the hurts are getting stronger. Your foot, well both your feet and your wrist is still sore and… and… oh Pip you're still needing that horrid poppy juice!"

"I-I knows it. We feelings you get hurtering too Mer." Pippin had not even noticed that he occasionally slipped into using "I" when he spoke to Merry. "So lot and lot of hurts on my Mer. You getted big cut on your here," Pippin turned again and gently touched Merry's chest, "and that's not bettrer even littlel bit. You been sick and sick again, I feeled your stumicks doing see-saw upperdowns and… oh but my Mer…" Pippin faced forward and wrapped his arms tightly about himself as if struck with terrible pain, his chin dropped down to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Pip, don't, please." Merry felt what Pippin was feeling, because it was in his mind too.

Pippin's eyes opened and two fat tears sprang forth and pooled onto his cheeks, followed by two more. "My poor, p-poor M-Merry." Pippin's speech began to hitch now as he felt a sob growing inside. Still he clutched at his belly and began to rock to and fro in spite of the gallop Shadowfax was maintaining. "You been too much saderness, you got be dying and not seeing Your-My Pippin Me-We agains never!"

Merry's face crumpled once more as his own sadness echoed back to him from Pippin, the reverberations of his despair and anguish swelling again now with the tears that rivered down his cheeks. "Pip, I'm sorry, please don't cry, please, I'm sorry. It's just I thought I would die and not get the chance to say goodbye or to see you again. I couldn't bear it, but I knew I had to die and that was the hardest part – dying alone."

"We know – We –I knows," Pippin bit his lip to stop the tears. "We not can't do that neither and I wantings to go killded We too just so We-I go with my Mer…" Pippin's mind spun around with the terrible sensations that had washed into his consciousness suddenly from Merry. He was almost overwhelmed with a sickening fright of Merry not only knowing he had to die but to die all alone.

"Pip, I'm glad you didn't!" Merry had not wanted Pippin to share his grief, it was painful enough to bear himself. He wrapped his arms around his worried cousin, just as he had done many times before when Pippin was little and needed comforting, just as he wished someone would have done to him when he was at his darkest moment, "You mustn't try to kill yourself if something happens to me. Promise you won't."

"We can't not…" Pippin sniffed loudly, still holding back tears. "We gone to do it, incepting, We Pippin got go do some things improtrant for Gandalf and Strider…" Pippin leaned his head back to Merry's face and whispered, his voice a conspiratorial murmur so that the two orcs would not hear, "now you got to go come and helping We?" Pippin caught Merry's hand in his, "We got put We Ring in the bonfire and We not knowering if my Merry bettrer enuff to go helps We, but We dursent leaves you on you owns not never agains."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Discord! There was a cacophony of dissonance and friction that grated upon His being and abraded His thoughts until the steel like clarity began to dissipate from His purpose.

The Battle had ceased, momentarily He knew, but the pause was taking longer than He had planned. He would compel the conflict to continue, His forces would easily overcome His enemy, but why were they waiting? They had the Ring, why did they not wield It?

The son of Isildur knew! He knew that even with his foe's own precious weapon, he could not overcome the mighty Dark Lord Sauron. But how resoundingly triumphant would His final victory be, if He should possess It again.

And when the fighting had stopped and the pressure in His mind, the force that He exerted to bring His many troops under His banner and instil in them the determination to kill and conquer, when that lessened, He heard It.

The Ring of Power. His Ring, that which He had sought endlessly, It was drawing near. But there was a fault! Something about It was discordant and painful to hear. It was fighting – fighting to survive!

His thoughts cast about, looking for It, seeking It. But, although He could catch the echoes of It, the location was indistinct. It was as though It were broken and in two places at once!

Nothing! Nothing could have brought that about. The Ring was indivisible, only the destruction of It could cause this friction.

And yet It was whole. It was not destroyed. But still there was the separation.

The Dark Mind became rapt and stabbed out thick tentacles of black interrogation, pressing into many unwary consciousnesses at once, leaving many minds disorientated and bodies sick, but still It eluded Him.

Suddenly – a path! It was not the right colour, argent with a tinge of blue, but it was aware! Aware of The Ring! He followed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Éowyn gasped. As she and Faramir entered the tent where Gandalf and Legolas lay, she saw the sparks of blue and silver flash from Legolas, to arc across Gimli's hand and lie shimmering for long seconds in his beard.

"What are you doing?" Without waiting for an answer, Éowyn pulled Gimli's hand away from the prone elf and batted at the Dwarf's long beard, as the still present blue sparks looked as if they might ignite at any moment and a Dwarf with a burning beard was the last thing they needed right now. "Stallion's stirrups! Gimli," Éowyn swore in exasperation, "we agreed not to mindspeak with Legolas again, remember?"

Faramir's eyebrows rose as the expletive left Éowyn's sweet rosebud lips. Being well-versed himself in Rohirric profanity, it did not totally surprise him to hear stable-talk from a maiden brought up to ride and fight as fiercely as any man, although he was relieved that she used the slightly demure expression and not the more bawdy _'stallion's stalk'_ or even more colourful, if bewildering, _'son of a gelding's arse'_.

"Faramir!" Éowyn waved her hand in front of his face, "are you with us? That's the third time I've asked you!"

"What? I'm so sorry!" Faramir had a tendency to wander off into his thoughts whenever Éowyn was around.

"Could you get Aragorn or Dysgwr? One of them should look at Legolas urgently." Éowyn was anxious not to touch the Elf in case it caused the same effect as it had on Gimli.

"All I did was touch him slightly," Gimli insisted, "I was truly not attempting to make contact. I'd not dare try such a thing on my own, it's more daunting than walking the Paths of the Dead – a Dwarf does not go willingly into an Elf's mind!"

"But do you think he is in danger?" Éowyn was torn by the prospect. "Perhaps he needs help in his mind. Maybe we should look and see if all is well."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Faster, faster!" Frodo was running frantically, but he knew that Gollum was outstripping him. He was tired beyond reason, his feet were calloused and raw and his hands torn and bleeding where he had clutched at and clambered over jagged rocks. "Come on Sam, I can't wait for you."

"This is barmy Mr Frodo!" Sam called out between gasping breaths. He could actually have overtaken his Master, but with what purpose? Should he tackle and bring him to the ground and restrain him? Surely it was not his place to decide that. On the other hand, Frodo was acting more strangely than he had ever seen him behave, either on the Quest or before.

Frodo felt his heart racing faster than his feet. His vision was blurred and he could see double, not in the usual way but, upon his own view of the surroundings, was imprinted a second image and Frodo knew that he was seeing everything Gollum could see. It was disorientating as Frodo hardly knew which paths he was treading on and which were ahead of him. If he looked down at his feet, he saw two furry hobbit feet and an ugly pair of overlarge naked feet, flapping along as if they were his own.

Frodo tripped and fell, but staggered up again and stumbled on. He decided not to look at his feet any more as it really was not helping. "Come on Sam! Keep up!"

Sam felt inclined to stand his ground but, on the other hand, had not Mr Frodo himself told Sam to stop him from doing anything to harm Pippin? Well one moment he did and then he seemed to change his mind again. One thing Sam knew for certain; _that there Ring was a fickle foe._

"We'll never catch him, not if we run for a hundred years… and Mr Frodo…" Sam managed to get the other hobbit's attention for a moment. "Aren't we going the wrong way? I mean, we're supposed to be going to that Mount Doom place, and now we're going in the other direction."

"No no! This is right!" Frodo's voice grew strong with endorphins, his pain from thirst, hunger and frantic run abating with the excitement, "I see him! We're nearly there!"

"Who Mr Frodo?" Sam could see no one, even though he strained his eyes in the direction Frodo pointed. "I can't see no one and my eyes are pretty good or so I always thought!"

"Pippin! It's him!" Frodo stopped dead in his tracks and spun round to grab Sam by the wrist, his blue eyes wide with alarm. "I think I see him, or maybe it's not me? I'm not sure any more. Sam it's Gollum! I think he sees Pippin. Quickly we must get there too, before he does anything."

"What's he about to do?" Sam looked all about trying to see what Frodo was focussed on, but there was nothing. But his eyes gazed steadfastly just past Sam's shoulder and Samwise could tell his master was in a panic over whatever he thought he was seeing. "Is he going to ambush Pippin?"

"No, yes! I don't know, maybe. He wants the Ring – my Ring! The One that Pippin is carrying – The Pippin!"

"The what?" Sam screwed his nose up and shook his head in total bafflement. What was Frodo talking about?

"Yesss, we sees him we does! The Pippin," Frodo made a wringing motion with his hands, "We got to take It offs The Pippin's neck – even if we has to breaks it first!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Vimta Ludd kicked his horse hard in the sides, his spurred boots drawing blood from the hard-pressed animal. "Faster, you fools, Majdi is a good quarter hour ride ahead of us."

"How far ahead do you think the halflings are?" Tyza Groon had a lesser steed than Vimta and was pushed to keep up. "I thought we were chasing them, not Majdi."

"We all have the same goal you idiot!" Vimta had no more patience than his Master, "The halflings are the prize and Majdi knows that!" He paused to catch breath even as his horse pushed onwards, the wind catching his words and making Tyza strain to hear. "Even if he is not fleeing from us, he is bent upon stealing the credit for their return."

"You mean to kill him, don't you?" Tyza was often slow at getting the point but even he found it difficult to miss his superior's intent. The snarl and the sneer in his voice were good clues, that and the mighty crossbow, loaded and primed, that the man carried across his lap. "Will one bolt be enough?"

"No you idiot!" Vimta had formed his plan even as they left the compound, but Tyza and Irne only needed to know the rest of it now. "We have to stop Majdi and those halfling brats once and for all. You've seen the trouble they could cause us – look at Majdi!"

"You mean to kill the halflings then?" Tyza's mouth fell open and, as they were riding quite fast, he swallowed two flies before he closed it again.

"No," Vimta shouted back, "I'm going to kill Majdi Rann." Vimta turned his attention back to the road and the chase, "You're going to kill the halflings."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Majdi Rann began to slow down. His horse was tiring and he knew that soon he would catch up with the Uruk Captain and the halflings and did not want to come upon them unawares.

They had stopped for some reason just before the end of the great encampment of armies, probably, Majdi suspected, for the Uruk to secure his prisoners better or take sustenance. After that he had lost the trail for a while, but he knew the Uruk had left with the halflings on a horse and there was only one road to take to Barad-dûr or anywhere else for that matter. So unless he had doubled back and gone through the Black Gate, which was not likely, given the hostile army that waited there, he must still be ahead of him.

Eventually Majdi rediscovered the trail and the pace increased again. Now the man calculated, by the remaining light and the speed of his own mount, that he had covered many miles and soon they must be in sight.

Hopefully they would rest again and he would be able to kill the Uruk and take the halflings without too much trouble. What he was to do then Majdi was not sure, but he had a feeling that now was not the time for careful planning. He was doing, for once in his life, what felt right and that would have to be enough.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Masster nooo!" Gollum was running again, hand over foot, picking his way nimbly over the rocks and crags. "Stopses your chassing Masster! Sméagol will find The Pippin!"

Gollum paused for a moment and sniffed the air. The atmosphere was tainted with the odour of many orcs and swathe upon swathe of unwashed men and beasts. But even in the midst of the almost overwhelming pungency of different species and their bacteria, one smell wove its path to Gollum's prying nostrils. "The Pippin! And… and he's brought the other one – the little blind hobbit. She didn't eats him at all! Oh whass to do? What's iss we going to do? Can we kills them both? Maybe we needs Masster after all!"

Teetering back and forth as he shifted his slight weight from hand to foot and back again, Gollum was wracked with indecision. "Got to get the Precious! Need to kill The Pippin dead, but the other little blind hobbit, can we kill him too, Precious?" His breathing increased until he was panting like a dog, his hands pawed at his own face in desperate indecision.

"Oh but Masster comes!" Gollum's great mouth creased into a maniacal grin, "Masster's going to kill The Pippin! We can sees in his head!" For a moment he sank down onto the ground again, his head shaking from side to side in wonder, "We never seen Masster so angry! Soo, so angry."

Then Gollum leapt into the air once more and began capering gleefully forward, no longer being stealthy but crying out in sheer delight, "Masster's going to kill The Pippin and Sméagol's going to kill the blind hobbit and Masster and Sméagol's are going to get the Precious! We are one now, Sméagol and Masster and we will have each our halve of the Precious and we will be one together forever and ever! Masster and Sméagol, Sméagol and Master and the Precious!"

"Quietly now…" Sensing he was reaching his goal, Gollum sank back down on to all fours, "We mustn't frit The Pippin." Clambering spider like over a large boulder, Gollum drooled as he realised he had finally found who he was looking for. "There they are – soo innocent – the little hobbitses. They think they iss so clever. But they don't know about Sméagol and Masster. We just wait here for a few minutes and wait and wait. Oh we knows how to be patient, Sméagol waited many, many years for The Precious. Not long now." He closed his eyes but opened them again with a loud hiss."

"Ssstupid fat hobbit!" Looking through Frodo's eyes, Gollum had seen Sam's angry face staring back at him. "Leave Masster alone! He's got to kill The Pippin."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Please Mr Smagnu," Merry looked up from where he was crouching on all fours having just thrown up again. He had tried to eat a little of the food Smagnu had brought, but his stomach was still in no fit state to deal with anything, let alone one of Bloggin's concoctions. "I really need to sit a bit longer – or just leave me here. I can't ride any more."

"No can't not leavering you anerywheres my Mer!" Pippin patted his cousin on the back hoping that might help him to stop retching, although he had no particular basis for the cure, just a vague recollection that was what you did to vomiting babies.

"But your wizard said to go straight there!" Smagnu was getting anxious at the delay. The sooner this whole expedition was over, the better as far as he was concerned. He had not actually expected to make it this far and didn't expect his luck to hold much longer. "We should get on. How about if I carry New Little Pip on my horse, then he won't jostle so much."

Bloggin said nothing but paced up and down the perimeter of their impromptu camp, Smagnu's blade held defensively in his paw and his eye tic growing more pronounced by the second.

"Listern my Smag," Pippin took the great beast's mighty fist and looked plaintively up into his frowning eyes, "My Mer not got go nowhere till his stummerick… stumm… oh… he's belly comes with he. And We Pippin not go nowhere less My Mer coming too as well. We can see big fire place now, so let just sit and waits We till got no more sick left."

"Just a short rest then." Smagnu grunted and pulling his hand away went the other side of a large rock and nosily relieved himself.

Bloggin went to sit down, but his mind suddenly booted him in the backside and he jumped to his feet once more. "Come on Mr Pip Your Worship Sir. My mind is shouting at me to get on wiv it. It saying we got to go now!"

"Oh yes!" Pippin looked suspiciously at the earnest little orc, "and what othrer ordres your bossiness mind go get We today?"

"If you forgiving me Sir, Mr Pip Sir, it says you got to leave your Mery-ay-doc here…" Bloggin stumbled over the unusual name, "…to gets better on himself and get on with what you meant to do."

"Reallery? Well you go tell your Mister Mind-We-Bus-y-ness Gandalf that We not go leave We Mery-ay-doc nowheres – Ever!"

Bloggin reached forward, his eye twitching and his other hand trying to stop himself, and touched Pippin on the head, ruffling his curls gently in a very familiar manner, "Peregrin Took – you know I would not ask this of you if it were not vital – you have to leave Meriadoc and carry on. The whole of Middle-earth is at stake."

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To Be Continued

_(very soon – promsis!)_

Author Note: I know I promised quicker updates and I regret that events in my life prevented that. As far as I know I should be able to continue now without too much delay. Please bear with me and I'll try to be prompt in future.

Llinos

_PS: Reviews help! (snerk)_

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**Q&A** _(although more properly called Snips and Snaps – your snips and my snaps)_

**_The Lauderdale_**: but the image that stuck with me was this tiny little Istari-possessed snaga-Orc suddenly roaring, "Peregrin Took! What did I tell you?"

**_Llinos:_** Poor Bloggin. And things are not improving for him either.  
**_NekoHitori:_** first off, I would like to say congratulations on Marigold getting married.  
**_Llinos_**: That makes me feel bad! She's just coming up to her first Wedding Anniversary!  
**_NekoHitori:_** love how Hobbits became the most feared species in Middle Earth.  
**_Llinos_**: Which is only right and proper after all!

**_harrowcat_**: You have a very twisted mind - that is compliment by the way!  
**_Llinos:_** Oh dear - please don't ever insult me then:D

**_poppymuddyfoot:_** Gandalf hiding inside Bloggin's mind snip And he thought it was difficult to communicate with Pippin!  
**_Llinos:_** But who would have guessed that Gandalf spoke fluent mindorc! It's a bit mean of us not to give the full translation – but what ya gonna do?

**_Sam camilliatook_** YAY! More Recap! And yet another late review from me  
**_Llinos_**: Sigh – well we've all been busy!  
**_Sam camilliatook:_** Gandalf and Bloggin's mindspeak together is the funniest thing.  
**_Llinos:_** Alas, poor Bloggin does not think so! You shouldn't laugh at him – he's sensitive. Well as sensitive as a small smelly orc can be.

**_Elentari:_** Oh no! I'm scared of what Frodo might do to Pippin! Please no! "cringes in a corner"  
**_Llinos:_** Well don't come out of the corner yet!  
**_Elentari:_** Keep on posting and I'll review every chapter:)  
**_Llinos:_** Fair enough!

**_Marigold:_** snips v. long review  
**_Llinos:_** Exactly!

**_Analey:_** Updates on this story are almost like mini holidays!  
**_Llinos_**: In that they happen about once a year? _"embarrassed blush"_

**_lovethosehobbits_**: Don't worry about the length of time between each chapter (I too have RL issues that seem to always slow me down and understand fully)  
**_Llinos_**: Now don't encourage me!

**_Arte Artunature:_** Lovely surprise to be able to read the new chapter before I leave for spring break.  
**_Llinos_**: Now you can again  
**_Arte Artunature:_** Hobbits are turning out to be more of a secret weapon than Gandalf first expected them to be, aren't they?  
**_Llinos_**: Oh I'm sure he always knew! Gandalf is trickier than he looks!  
**_Arte Artunature:_** Yes, a cookie if you update soon!  
**_Llinos_**: Cookie modem on standby. Oh wait, it wasn't really soon, now was it.

**_sarahsweeties:_** didnt have much of eowyn/faramir in this chappie  
**_Llinos:_** No, it's not their story, but they keep sticking their noses over the parapet!  
**_sarahsweeties:_** …then faramir would get super-jealous! muahaahahaha fun fun fun  
**_Llinos:_** That's just mean! Still… _"wanders off thinking about it"_

**_Blossom:_** Going to check out the Eastgaters now...ah, yes, Merry's hurt in that too...any chance of some merry Merry:)  
**_Llinos:_** Ahem, yes. _"sidles red-faced towards virtual door – muttering – I blame Marigold!"_

**_auntiemeesh:_** I've started planning that Hawaiian vacation for them, they're going to need it by the time this is all over.  
**_Llinos_**: Are you sure that's a good idea? Have you **_seen_** LOST!

**_bohemian sheep_**: You've got me hooked. Please update soon. But not too soon - I've got to re-read it, remember ;) DA IAWN!  
**_Llinos:_** Was that enough time for you? _"Shakes head in Cymraeg, 'Mae ddrwg gen i – rhy hir! – mwyfwy, cyn bo hir'"_

**_Lindelea_**: snork!  
**_Llinos_**: Please try not to splutter on the story.  
**_Lindelea_**: How is it you can make me feel sorry for a little orc?  
**_Llinos_**: It's Magnic!  
**_Lindelea:_** I do hope you can save Majdi.  
**_Llinos:_** I'm not omnipotent! That's Pip! Although He tells me He's Omnipipitent!  
**_Lindelea_**: Chuckling at your practical Phunnie. He lives up to his name, doesn't he?  
**_Llinos:_** No – he's a right bastard when you get to know him!

**_Pip4:_** Um, Frodo's starting to scare me a little bit, and that usually doesn't happen.  
**_Llinos:_** Well you must be very brave then – he scares the bejeasus out of me!

**_Latanya Kassidy:_** Poor Pip doesn't know that his reunion with Frodo will not be so sweet!  
**_Llinos:_** Ah but nobody knows that yet! The past is set in stone, the future is unwritten! Ahem – well in _Recaptured's_ case it is – unwritten I mean.

**_No longer in service:_** So much was covered yet I wish it was longer.  
**_Llinos_**: When I looked at your name, I thought perhaps you'd got tired of waiting and gone! I hope not. Some complain it's too long and some that it's too short, I hope this is a happy compromise. At least I'll try not to make you wait so long for an update.

**_Breon Briarwood:_** happy dance Another chapter! After, um, too many chapters to count, all I can say is "Yay! Another chapter!"  
**_Llinos:_** Well at least you seem happy! Very happy. You haven't been in the poppyjuice I hope. I mean, dancing, can't count, doesn't know what to say – all the symptoms. :D


	39. Hearts and Minds

_**Author's Note: I apologise once more for the unreasonably long wait in updating this story. The usual suspects are to blame, real life, other projects and general lack of time. I also, personally, had a very bad year with the loss of someone dear to me, which is not conducive to writing.**_

_**However, I now intend to resume with a heart and in order to help, chiefly me, but also anyone else who is beginning to forget the possibly slightly complex plot, here is a recap of the last few chapters. Actually, points 1-20 were already used earlier and points 21-35 are a new synopsis. **_

__

_**I do intend to finish this story and plan to submit shorter chapters on a more regular basis - hopefully one a week.**_

Hope you like it,

_**Heddwch!**_

_**Llinos**_

_**The story so far:**_

1. As the armies of the West march upon the Black Gate, Gandalf is using Pippin as bait for Sauron by making him appear to be the Ringbearer in order to give Frodo a better chance. To increase the deception, Gimli forged a gold ring and they hung it about Pippin's neck while he slept.

2. Merry was recovering from his battle with the Witch King in Minas Tirith, nursed by Éowyn (assisted by Faramir) and Dysgwr, but still has not seen Pippin after regaining his sight, and as Pippin had left for the battle before Merry regained consciousness has not had the chance to verbally speak with him either.

3. Gandalf's plan begins to backfire after the power of Frodo's Ring, frantically looking for escape from the fires of Mount Doom, finds a link with Pippin (who It remembers from an encounter Bilbo had with Pippin when Pippin was small) and manages to transfer some of Its power to Pippin's ring.

4. Aragorn uses the palantír to confront Sauron but has Pippin join him at the same time to reinforce him as Ring bait. In the process Pippin's mind finds Frodo's.

5. Gandalf has Legolas send a mind message to Éowyn to tell Merry to mentally contact Sam to tell Frodo not to mindspeak with Pippin as it may lead Sauron to Frodo. So they do.

6. Pippin becomes mistrustful of Gandalf and Aragorn, believing that he has the one Ring and that they want to take It from him. He also starts to become delusional and paranoid, his already muddled speech starting to sound like Gollum. Pippin determines that he needs to try to take his Ring to Mount Doom and destroy It.

7. Frodo and Sam shut out Pippin's voice by playing rhyming games.

8. Legolas and Pippin are mindspeaking to perpetrate the deception that Pippin is the Ringbearer, but Sauron hears and then attacks them on the mental plane they occupy. Legolas is blinded and struck mute but before his hearing can be taken, Merry and Éowyn, combined as one mighty warrior, intervene and save him. They in turn are brought back to the living world by Faramir's unwitting intervention.

9. Faramir keeps getting jealous twinges over Éowyn's friendship with Merry.

10. Merry and Éowyn, having been in mind contact with Pippin, now know that he thinks he is the Ringbearer and that he no longer trusts Gandalf or Aragorn and will try to go to Mount Doom. They believe they must stop him, but cannot deliver this message through mindspeak to Legolas or Pippin as Sauron or the Nazgûl might overhear. Théoden agrees that Éowyn and Faramir will ride out to catch up and stop Pippin doing anything untoward.

11. Merry, with the help of Drâmym and Ŭnomer, manages to escape his healer Dysgwr and King Théoden, to accompany them.

12. Théoden is angry when he finds Merry gone as Dysgwr had been, on Gandalf's orders, dosing Merry with opium to keep his mind shielded from the Nazgûl. He sends Drâmym, Ŭnomer and Dysgwr after him with orders to bring him back or at least dose him up again.

13. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam are battling with rock falls and unexpected deluges and then Frodo begins to realise that the Ring is losing some of Its power and that the power is transferring to Pippin. Frodo can still hear some of Pippin's thoughts though he is careful not to answer him.

14. Gandalf regrets his ploy now as it seems to be getting out of control and tries to take the faux Ring back from Pippin, but Pippin will not relinquish It as he still believes It to be the true Ring and that Gandalf wants It for himself. Although Pippin declares he just wants to continue as bait, he is in fact determined to attempt the destruction of his Ring.

15. Meanwhile, beyond the Black Gate, Smagnu and Grutfley and Sniggin and Bloggin and Co are preparing for the battle. They have been given charge of Groll the Troll.

16. Gandalf learns from Aragorn's experience with Pippin and the palantír, that Pippin had touched the Ring when he was a child. This puts a different complexion on things and Gandalf is horrified to learn the fact, as it means the Ring may well have found Pippin again.

16. Sauron, after His encounter with Pippin, Legolas and Merry/Éowyn is certain now of where the halfling is that carries His Ring.

17. Nazgûl fly over the army's camp and Pippin runs out to show himself, planning to order the Nazgûl to take him to Mount Doom. Legolas and Gimli rush to protect him and manage to hold the attack off until Gandalf arrives and, using the flame of Anor, repels the wraith. With the enormous surge of power that the wizard uses, more of the Ring's power transfers from Frodo's Ring to Pippin's.

18. Aragorn and Gandalf realise that Pippin's Ring has become more powerful and attempt again to take It from him. This results in a skirmish ending with Pippin putting the Ring on to try and escape. Although visible to Aragorn, (because of who he is and their connection through the palantír) and Gandalf and Legolas (who can now see what is in the Shadow World and naught else) he becomes invisible to Gimli. Gandalf finally persuades Pippin to take the Ring off – but agrees that he should keep It.

19. Frodo now realises for certain that Pippin's Ring has to be destroyed along with his Ring as the power has divided between the two Rings. He sends a message, via Sam to Merry to tell Pippin this. Merry can't do this using mindspeak, in case he is overheard, so it becomes imperative that he reaches Pippin.

20. Gandalf realises how firmly Pippin is attached to his Ring now, but hopes that once Frodo has destroyed his Ring, Pippin's will fail too. In the meantime he believes he must prevent Pippin from trying to go to Mount Doom. They try to persuade Pippin to speak normally, and finally he manages to say, "I miss Merry."

21. Whilst hurrying to meet with Pippin at the Black Gate to carry him the message that he must destroy the faux Ring that has been put round his neck, Merry is snatched by a fell beast after Faramir slays the Nazgûl that is riding it. Faramir, Éowyn, Dysgwr, Drâmym and Ŭnomer are unable to save him and race to let Aragorn and Gandalf know what has happened and to deliver Merry's message.

22. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam decided to wait for Pippin to arrive after managing to decipher a mindspeak message from Merry. But they are then joined by Gollum, still in pursuit of the Ring. They also encounter the Mouth of Sauron's entourage, on their way to the Black Gate. The men capture Gollum, but fail to see Frodo and Sam, who are hiding. Frodo decides to rescue Gollum, using the Ring.

23. Meanwhile Merry is finally taken from the fell beast by the orcs and used by the Mouth of Sauron to try and deceive Aragorn into believing they have Frodo prisoner. However, Pippin spots the deceit and tells his companions that it is in fact Merry. Merry has about him the magnic rope, after Ŭnomer lassoed the fell beast with it and he is also dressed in Frodo's mithril vest as part of the attempted deceit. He is befriended by one of his captors, Majdi Rann, a servant of the Mouth of Sauron.

24. After the embassy with the Mouth of Sauron, the two armies engage in battle. Smagnu and Grutfley, together with Sniggin and Bloggin and their Blue Battalion, march forward with Groll the Troll as part of Sauron's army. But they resist killing, although Groll attacks Legolas who is about to kill the Uruk protecting it when Pippin stops him. Gimli then attacks the troll, which falls on Legolas, crushing, but not killing him. Pippin has recognised Smagnu, the Uruk who rescued him and Merry from Barad-dûr, as the orc Legolas tried to kill and now, reunited with his Uruk, gets Smag to rescue Legolas from beneath the troll.

25. A truce in the battle is then called, as the Mouth of Sauron realises, with the finding of Merry, that he may yet manage to discover the halfling who bears his Master's Ring. Gandalf and Aragorn accept the truce as they also hope it will give Frodo more time. They withdraw from the battlefield, but take with them the "captured" Blue Battalion of orcs led by Pippin's Smagnu.

26. Legolas, badly hurt with a broken arm and other internal injuries, manages to mindspeak and find Merry and brings him a little comfort. But his pain causes him to accidentally drag Éowyn and Pippin into his mind at the same time and they too feel Merry and know that he is alive.

27. Aragorn and Gandalf are summoned to another parley and this time, they are greeted by the sight of Merry hung from the Black Gate. They are told they may take him back if they accept the 24 hour armistice. Gandalf wishes to accept, but they will only release Merry to him – alone. Gandalf realises this is because they want him to leave Pippin, who they believe to be the true Ringbearer, alone and unguarded.

28. In order to thwart this plan, and to execute their own plan of getting Pippin to Mount Doom with his portion of the Ring, Gandalf disguises Bloggin as Pippin and takes him on Windfola to release Merry. At the same time, Smagnu takes Pippin seated on Shadowfax to a postern gate posing as captor and captive. Although Pippin has been warned by Gandalf not to attempt to rescue Merry, he of course tells Smagnu they will.

29. However, Gandalf is assaulted on the Dagorlad Plain and left for dead by the orcs, who capture Bloggin, believing him to be the Halfling their Master seeks. Although Gandalf's unconscious body is retrieved, because during the physical assault he was also attacked by Sauron, his mind fled and hid within Bloggin's consciousness. This now suits the Wizard well, as he is able, once Bloggin is reunited with Smagnu, to keep an eye on the hobbits as well.

30. Smagnu and Pippin, having rescued Merry, set off with Bloggin in tow towards Mount Doom. They are now taking a short break as Merry is still sick and unwell.

31. Shortly afterwards, Majdi Rann, having handed Merry over to Smagnu, believing him to be the messenger from Barad-dûr, sets off to rescue Merry as he promised he would.

32. In pursuit of him are the remainder of the servants of the Mouth of Sauron, the orcs deciding they want nothing more to do with these magickal and bewitched creatures.

33. Meanwhile, Gollum in a confrontation with Frodo, manages to touch the rift made by Gandalf when much of the Ring's essence escaped before to Pippin's faux Ring. Because of the deep emotion of the moment, Gollum becomes entwined in Frodo's consciousness and now they are linked, much to Frodo's dismay.

34. Gollum is now racing to meet "The Pippin" intent upon murder. Frodo and Sam are chasing after him, both fearing for Pippin's safety, fearing he may be harmed by Gollum or, even more likely by Frodo himself.

35. Back at the rock, Pippin and Merry are saved from marauding orcs by Bloggin (who is bemusedly being manipulated by Gandalf) and Pippin finally realises that it is Gandalf who is controlling the little orc.

_**Now read on…**_

**_Hearts and Minds  
Recaptured – Chapter 131_**

Author: **Llinos  
**Beta: **Marigold**

Majdi Rann had learned to be a violent man, but his violence was never inspired or driven by temper. A temper was a luxury that only the rich and powerful could afford, his strength lay instead in stealth and cunning – that and his prized crossbow.

Crossbows were not standard issue to the servants of the Mouth of Sauron for what need had they to pick off assailants and brigands? When would these peripatetic footmen be called upon to assassinate their Master's foes or victims? In fact, as Majdi Rann learned early in his Lord's service, quite frequently. It was not an acknowledged detail; such arrangements rarely were. Otherwise why would unsuspecting adversaries walk willingly towards a flag of truce if they believed their opposite numbers to be armed to the ears with deadly ranged weapons.

Majdi was a fair swordsman it was true. On occasion he had thrust his blade into the belly, and, more often, the back of deserving and not so deserving recipients alike. But a sword involved an element of competition, it was necessary to get close and allow your adversary the opportunity to cut and slice or even run you through. A risk to be avoided in Majdi's opinion, especially that Uruk-hai, a nasty looking specimen and obviously more than capable of removing his head, even without a sword.

A bow kept you out of danger and a crossbow even more so. An arrowshaft a Man might withstand, an Uruk almost certainly could take several arrows and still keep on coming, but a bolt from a crossbow stopped most creatures in their tracks.

He would fell the Uruk with one shot and retrieve the halfling, possibly both halflings, and make for the South. It was not much of a plan and certainly lacked his usual foresight and cunning, but this was a spur of the moment action and Majdi was trusting to whatever higher Power had urged him to recklessness in the first place to watch over his endeavours and let him save the innocent, or die trying.

The Man spurred his steed to greater haste. It was a significant day for Majdi Rann and he did not want to be late for what might be his last chance for mortal redemption. He did not expect to outlive this day, so he might as well spend it profitably and, above all, efficiently.

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Frodo's knees, feet and hands were bleeding, but he paid no attention to the fact, even to notice that he was leaving a trail of bloody hand and foot prints as he scrabbled over the rocks. The pursuit filled his whole horizon, he could see nothing now but his goal and the need to reach it was consuming the gentle hobbit with a fire that burned within and without.

"Mister Frodo! Frodo! Come back!" In his desperation, Samwise had lost all caution and was shouting as he ran. Frodo had shown a strength that had taken Sam by surprise, pushing him head over heels backwards down a slope. When Sam had regained his feet, he discovered Frodo had fled and, thinking no longer of stealth and secrecy, took off after his Master as fast as his weary legs could run.

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Merry had ceased to vomit, possibly sheer surprise had proved the remedy as he listened to the strange little orc, Bloggin, explaining to Pippin that he had a duty to leave his Mery-ay-doc behind and get on with his mission.

_'Mission_?' Merry started to remember. Much had happened to him since he had received the message in his mind from Frodo via Sam. Had it been delivered? Éowyn must have carried the message to Pippin and that was why he was here. It all fell into place.

But there was something else. Something important, but elusive. Merry tried to pin it down but the thought would not keep still and continually danced just out of reach of his memory, tantalisingly. For he knew it mattered a great deal. _'A rescue? A man?_' He needed to tell Mr Smagnu something… what?

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Éowyn and Gimli sat either side of Legolas, their arms across him as they held hands just above his chest. Their eyes were firmly fixed on each other as they tried to focus their mental energy to join forces and touch Legolas's mind without being too obvious.

The Elf was pale and unmoving, but they could feel his mind and, dimly, they heard the voices in his head. The sounds were distorted and far away and they could only catch the occasional word. Nevertheless, both Éowyn and Gimli sensed that Legolas was watching Gandalf and that the Wizard was occasionally taking a hand in directing matters himself, even speaking to Pippin and appealing to him to continue without Merry. Although, quite how they knew this, neither one could tell.

Faramir, who had been recently dispatched to find either Aragorn or Dysgwr, proudly returned with both. But his pride and his jaw swiftly fell when he saw Éowyn. His teeth made an unpleasant grinding noise as he noticed that she was now holding hands with the dwarf!

However, he was still nervous about interrupting and perhaps letting his feelings become too obvious, so he choked back the exclamation he felt rising in his throat and turned it into a tentative cough. "Arghhem!" He spluttered as the mixture of cough, caution and jealousy vied to make his presence felt. "I… um… I've found… er… brought…"

"Éowyn?" Aragorn strode past Faramir and, taking her by the shoulder, intercepted her gaze from Gimli, "what are you doing?"

Éowyn broke her concentration for a moment, making Gimli give a startled, almost guilty, jump. "Do not fear," she spoke to Aragorn but was aware of Faramir boring his eyes into Gimli as if he were about to rip the dwarf's head off. "Gimli and I were not speaking to Legolas in our minds, we were merely listening and trying to absorb some of his pain."

"He is in pain?" Dysgwr tutted, "I can give him a mild narcotic to make him sleep more deeply."

"No!" Éowyn made Gimli and Faramir jump this time with her abrupt response. "Do no such thing! He is very involved at the moment and should not be disturbed."

"Involved?" Aragorn put one hand up to silence Dysgwr's protest and another hovered over Legolas's brow, searching for fever, but finding none. "Is he in danger? Has He… has the Enemy found him?"

"Not yet," Gimli spoke for the first time, "I do not think, but He is dangerously close." The dwarf held out his hand to Éowyn. "Come Milady, we must give him what strength we can, and Gandalf too."

"What?" Faramir looked as if he were about to protest, but at a slight shake of the head from Aragorn, bit his tongue.

Dysgwr voiced his fears instead, "I don't understand, how can they help? Why is Legolas in danger? And why must The Lady Éowyn help him?"

"It is a battle of minds and wills," Aragorn explained quietly. "Through some medium Gandalf is observing all that is happening to Pippin and his Uruk and, in turn, Legolas is listening to Gandalf."

Dysgwr blinked as if he had not been answered at all and was about to protest again, but this time Faramir, who did at least comprehend what was happening, shook his head at the healer, signalling him to ask no more questions.

As Éowyn reached to take Gimli's proffered hand once more, she could not miss the pain in Faramir's eyes. "We have to do this." Her tone was muted as were her emotions. Dimly she realised that in this pavilion were the only two men under the Heavens that she would consider binding herself to and yet she was not sure which of them meant the most to her. Best not to consider this at all, especially, she reasoned as none of them might outlive this day. The immediate task was to protect her dear friend, Legolas, as he had protected and cared for her.

"Éowyn?" Faramir dropped to his knees beside her, "Milady, can I be of any assistance to you?" He saw the slight shake of her head and added quickly, "I do not mean to intrude; I truly just want to help."

Éowyn paused. She had been about to reject his offer, but his eyes spoke volumes. Perhaps this **_was_** the time to think about such things? No, not now. She needed to concentrate. But he looked so forlorn and earnest. "Yes," Éowyn touched the back of her fingers against his cheek. "Could you watch Gandalf? You and Dysgwr. I am not sure what might happen or what you should do, but I think someone should stay beside him."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Gandalf?" Pippin's voice sank to a reverent whisper, "is you actualitilly insides of Smag's littlel orcses Bloggin?"

"I dursen't knows what yous talking about, Master Pippin Sir Your Worship." Bloggin looked anxiously around. Smagnu was just emerging from behind the rock, tucking himself away, obviously more for safekeeping than modesty's sake, "I's just doing what me mind tells me and Cap'n Smagnu, he's my officer boss."

"Howcomings you did get youselfs here?" Pippin persisted, "and what was happerened We Gandalf and you last did see of he-self?"

"I's not sure," Bloggin looked at Smagnu for help, but none was forthcoming. "He falleded off the great horse and the orcs came and took me – that's the last I knows, on me bruther's head!" the orc concluded as if that sealed the matter.

"Was My Gandalf still go live and you see'd he-self?" Pippin was worried now that the Wizard might be talking to him through the little orc from beyond the sphere of Middle-earth.

"I durn't not know, so's I can't says." Bloggin told him, "I just knows that since he went down, me mind's been a'telling me what to do and it sounds more'n just a bit like yer Wizard Lord. But I durn't know what it's all about and if'n yer could 'splain it ter me, I most likely still not gone to knows."

"Leave it," Smagnu finally came to Bloggin's aid, "You ain't going to get it straight, so forget it. I'll carry New Little Pip till he stops spewing his guts up and…"

As Smagnu was speaking he bent to lift Merry off the ground but was halted mid-sentence as a bolt clipped across the back of his head and parted his rope-like black hair, to ricochet harmlessly off the rock on which the Uruk had just urinated.

Smagnu spun in the direction the crossbow bolt had come from, drawing his sword and throwing Merry up over his shoulder simultaneously. "What the fug!" He barely had time to fling himself to the ground, landing on top of Merry and nearly suffocating him, to dodge the second bolt that narrowly missed his huge bulk.

"Keep down!" Smagnu hissed at Merry and reached out for Pippin at the same time, pulling him down on the ground beside him as he began, a hobbit under each arm, to edge around the large rock once more, this time for relief of a very different kind.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Majdi cursed under his breath, that bloody orc had been lucky beyond reason. The first two bolts had missed him by the most ridiculous chance and, now he was alerted to the attack, he was lying too flat and low and had the little Merry creature too close for a clear shot. Majdi would have to take him by hand-to-hand combat.

Drawing his sword he entreated to any deity that might be listening and sympathetic to his cause for good fortune to touch him for once and then surged forward.

Smagnu pushed Merry and Pippin down to the ground and, with one foot still firmly in Merry's back rose to meet the onslaught, his sword clashing defensively, with a ringing clang, against Majdi's attempt to cleave his head.

Once Smagnu had risen, Pippin immediately sat up and tried to push the orc's foot off Merry, who lay pliant and beyond argument beneath the Uruk's leg as the great beast swung fiercely to and fro meeting every blow that Majdi struck. Neither man nor orc could gain any ground or advantage and neither one was about to yield.

"Smag! Smag! Get you foots off on My Mer!" Pippin tugged and hit at Smagnu's leg, almost upending him in mid-battle. "He no gets too much enough air in he and you go squashering he!"

In spite of the speed and turmoil of the fight he was engaged in with the Uruk, Majdi could not help but hear the other halfling's intimately familiar entreaty to the huge monster. It struck him as odd. Surely the tiny creature could not be calling the Uruk by name? Why would he do that? What could this mean?

The orc responded to the creature's pushing and harassing and, without missing a single parry, lifted his foot and harried Majdi back and away from the halflings.

Pippin pulled Merry up and into his arms. "You go good My Mer? You go be too much greenface We thinkings," Pippin patted Merry on the back until he coughed and spluttered and drew a deep breath. "Good you go suck big breathings! Go make some more breathes My Mer. My Smag put he big feets on you and… aaaiiiiieeee!"

Pippin without warning was knocked over backwards, a hand under his chin as his whole body was wrenched by grasping angry hands. With his assailant wrapped around him, he rolled over and over, down the rocky slope.

Merry frantically pawed the air as he tried to sit up to discover where Pippin had gone. As he dragged himself, hand over hand, to the edge of the small ridge above his head he gasped in horror as he saw his young cousin grappling desperately with hands strangling around his neck. What in pity's sake was happening? It was Frodo and he appeared to be trying to throttle Pippin!

0-0-0-0-0-0

**To Be Continued…** (very soon!) (like this week) (or next) (promsis)! _(In fact it is already written)_

**_Q&A_**

**_Erin:_** I really like the story!  
**_Llinos:_** Good! Just sorry not to have been around for a while.

**_Budgielover_**: It's so good to see this continued! I confess to being a Frodo-and-Sam lover, but the relationship you draw between Merry and Pip is so heartwarming and loving that even a determined F&S fan can't resist it.  
**_Llinos: _**Well Budgie, hopefully there will be enough F&S in there now that they are on a collision course.

**_Scarlet Angel4:_** It would make my head feel so much better if it weren't so long between chapters...  
**_Llinos: _**I know, I know. But from now on I'll be pressing on regardless.

**_co:_** PLEASE tell me when the next chapter will come because I think I will explode without it!  
**_Llinos: _**Well this one is right here, and the next one will be along before you know it. In fact just talk amongst yourselves and it will be up directly.

**_Sam:_** Yay! I re-read the entire story and the new chapter in between finding a job and college! Go Me! And go Llinos for the new chapter. The scene with Gimli watching over Legolas was so sweet. It was one of those cute scenes that have a slight overcast of darkness. Yay for those types of scenes.  
**_Llinos: _**Congrats on the job, although I guess some time has passed now – but Go You anyway. Gimli and Legolas – yes kind of sweet with a hint of dark – bit like a Terry's Chocolate Orange.  
**_Sam:_** Can't wait for more Llinos. You're doing great!  
**_Llinos: _**Yes, but must try harder, must try harder!

**_Anso the Hobbit:_** Such anguish! My poor Mer indeed. You NEED to update soon. Please! And what cruelty to separate Merry and Pippin again now that they just have found each other again.  
**_Llinos: _**Aha! But have I? Watch this space!

**_TXMedic:_** Get to writing!  
**_Llinos: _**Message received and understood!

**_Baylor_**: Well, well, look who's back! What a delight to see you writing again!  
**_Llinos: _**Um – sorry for the second blip! I am now back and fully functioning – ahem, as much as I ever was.  
**_Baylor_**: I always knew he was a tough little guy. I was delighted to see Majdi Rann again - I think he's one of the most fascinating characters you've ever created.  
**_Llinos: _**Yes, I think he has more to do, although I'm not sure what yet.

**_Tash:_** Finally an update—woo-hoo! Yet somehow it seems not long enough :(  
**_Llinos:_** There will be more – and soon this time.  
**_Tash_** Not sure why, but I especially like Gandalf and Bloggin. Somehow I always knew Majdi would turn out to be all right. Definitely one of the coolest originals in the story—next to Smagnu, of course.  
**_Llinos_**: Yay for Maj – and I think Smag is getting more like you know who! But which of them will prevail in the fight to save Merry?

**_Pearl Took_**: Ok, I had wandered away from this tale, I'll admit. But it has reached out to pull me along once again.  
**_Llinos _**Me too!

**_The Lauderdale:_** I guess you know my predilection for Orcs. Your epic is much more than just "some Orc story," of course, but there is no denying that your Orcs are a special draw for me: you handle them in such dexterous and multivarious ways, and I love them all - jot me down for a Phunnie enthusiast when next he decides to show his ugly face. Anyway, it gives me some continuing means of filling my own "poppy" fix (especially now that my old favourite venue, uruk-hai . org, is shutting down. So sad!)  
**_Llinos_**: You might enjoy Nagash over in Broken World in that case. I'm not sure what Phunnie is up to, but I'd like to see him again sometime.  
**_The Lauderdale:_** Has anyone ever done any fanart for this story? Alas that I have no proficiency in that area: I would love to see a picture of Bloggin, Last Action Hero! Actually, I think the Amazing Adventures of Bloggin and Mithrandir would make a great comic...  
**_Llinos: _**Oh don't get me started! But great ideas. I think Poppy did some fanart early on, but no orcs that I recall.

**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: And how in the world have you managed to make me afraid of Frodo? That line about breaking Pippins' neck if he has to get the ring just gave me shivers.  
**_Llinos: _**Oh I think Frodo can be perfectly scary when he wants to be  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: Go, Majdi! How many bad guys are you going to turn good before this is over, hmm?  
**_Llinos:_** Good question! I think everyone has some good and some bad in them.  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: Just one more question- Oh, Gimli, what have you done?  
**_Llinos:_** He's all right – you should have more faith in the dwarf.  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot:_** Eagerly awaiting the next, chapter,  
**_Llinos:_** Sorry this one's been a while – I hope you're still out there. Next few will be quick though.

**_Harrowcat:_** Yeh You are back - and with a real vengeance! It was a real delight to find a new chapter and am so glad that life is beginning to settle for you. More,more...more!  
**_Llinos: _**Thanks – life had not really settled for me – but it's looking a lot bettrer now!

**_Blossom:_** Think I must be strange because I adore your Bloggin/Gandalf duo, I think they're the funniest thing I've read this year.  
**_Llinos:_** They are incongruous, but Bloggin may surprise you and Gandalf yet.  
**_Blossom: _**Don't think I've got anything critical to say about this story - I just love it! p.s. does Marigold really have a whip to 'encourage' you!  
**_Llinos: _**That's nice to hear! And yes she does, but she's scared to use it on me.

**_Lindelea1_**: How interesting that "I" is slipping into Pippin's speech.  
**_Llinos_**: Oh you noticed that too.  
**_Lindelea1_**: I forget just when Merry got his sight back. Will have to go back a little way and re-read.  
**_Llinos_**: It was when they killed the WitchKing.  
**_Lindelea1_**: Pippin is soothing Merry with thoughts, yet not mind-speaking? Did I get that right?  
**_Llinos_**: Yes.  
**_Lindelea1_**: Again, I do like Majdi Rann. Excellent job of bringing him into the story and making the reader like, even identify with, him. "At least one noble deed"... yes, and many more, I hope.  
**_Llinos: _**He's getting quite the following – I'll have to start him a fanclub.  
**_Lindelea1_**: And now we have Majdi's former coworkers following him, and all converging on the same point, it seems. Mt. Doom is going to be crowded. Who knew you have to have reservations during the off season?  
**_Llinos: _**Book early for Yule!  
**_Lindelea1_**: (p.s. this is out of order, but I just remembered Pippin's and Merry's differing reactions to poppy in Merry's memory. Very striking!)  
**_Llinos: _**They do have very different feelings about it.  
**_Lindelea1_**: Faramir had a tendency to wander off into his thoughts whenever Éowyn was around. Faramir! Pay attention!  
**_Llinos: _**Well said!  
**_Lindelea1_**: My first impression was that Merry needed a comfort stop. If you catch my drift. I doubt there were many facilities along that stretch of "road" however.  
**_Llinos: _**Ha! You Americans and your bathrooms!  
**_Lindelea1_**: Marvellous. And you say you're already working on the next chapter? Now I call that encouraging news.  
**_Llinos: _**Well it's sat on my computer for a long time and now I'm just getting it all back in order. Sorry for the delay, but I think normal service has now been resumed. However you are welcome to resume nudging.

**_slightlytookish_**: I can't say that I like Pippin leaving Merry though! Not when they've just been reunited too. I hope he doesn't have to make that decision! I'm looking forward to your next chapter :)  
**_Llinos: _**Don't worry - on either count.

**_Empress Petra_**: YAY YOU'VE UPDATED! How long's it been? A year? .It's so good! Thank you, and PLEASE update soon!  
**_Llinos: _**Sorry – I know, I know – but keep reading and I'll keep writing now

**_Marigold:_** Finally, finally a new chapter! Thank you so much, I am thrilled!  
**_Llinos:_** Well you asked for it! So you got it!  
**_Marigold:_** Will Pippin leave his beloved Merry behind, even to save Middle-earth? I can't wait to see how you will resolve that! Next chapter please! I can't wait!  
**_Llinos: _**Yes you can – because you know it won't be too long! lol!

**_ziyal:_** YES! Finally! Ive been waiting for this! It's magnic!  
**_Llinos: _**Hi Ziyal! You still there – I do hope so.

**_Pip4:_** Aw, that was a sweet chapter, well, at least the beginning was.  
**_Llinos: _**Yes, can't stay sweet for too long!


	40. L'Amie Inconnue

**L'Amie Inconnue  
Recaptured – Chapter 132**

Author: Llinos  
Beta: Marigold

The thousand needles inside Frodo's head were jabbing into his brain with an intensity that blurred his vision and his reason until all he could see was his Ring around the neck of another!

And not just any other! This was his trusted cousin who had vowed to help him in his Quest – how could Pippin betray him in this way? Stealing his precious Ring and pretending he was the true Ringbearer – it defied sanity! Frodo felt the fury inside him rise to an incandescent level.

"I'll kill you! It's mine… mine!" Frodo's hands constricted tighter and tighter around the soft white throat, until eventually the small body that was struggling beneath him became still. The frenzied fists that had been trying to dislodge his grip, loosened and fell slack to the ground.

Merry leaned further over the rock, frantic with worry and still sick to his stomach. "Pip! Pip!" All need for stealth and secrecy was forgotten in his panic for Pippin's safety and Frodo's sanity. Forcing large breaths into his lungs to try and stem the need to vomit, Merry staggered to his feet and then flung himself forwards, tripping and rolling down the incline after his fighting cousins.

"Frodo! Fro!" Merry managed to get a hand on Frodo's arm and tugged with all his might, hoping to dislodge his grip on Pippin's throat. Pippin appeared lifeless and had a distinctly bluish tinge to his face. "Stop Fro! Please!" Merry could not loosen the grip, but he succeeded in getting Frodo's attention. "You're killing Pip! Think Fro! You don't want to kill Pippin! The Ring is making you do this! Stop before it's too late!"

Frodo blinked at Merry as if seeing him for the first time, shaking his head as he tried to clear the piercing pain from behind his eyes. His mouth fell open and he looked down at Pippin, although his hands did not loosen their grip.

"Yiiiieeeee!" A screeching turmoil of arms and legs hit Merry in the side and sent him tumbling head over heels further down the incline. "Masssterrr kills The Pippin! The flailing limbs struck Merry wildly, knocking the already weak hobbit about the head so that he could barely see, let alone defend himself. "We kills the blind hobbit and then we boths kills the fat hobbit! Massster and we togetherrr! We gets our Ring and no one takes It from us-selves everrr again!"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Bloggin had thrown himself flat on the ground when the first missile sliced through Smagnu's hair. He lay there quivering with fright as Smagnu and Majdi Rann crossed swords and when Frodo came crashing into Pippin, the little orc squeaked out loud in panic. "Yieeeiek! What I's does? Please Mr Mind – tells me what I got to do!"

**_'Quiet_**!' Bloggin's mind snapped at him abruptly, **_'Watch_**!'

The little orc pushed himself up on his elbows and felt his eyes involuntarily roving around the scene, taking in all that he could. Things were happening very fast.

Smagnu and the new man were slashing and parrying, neither one gaining ground, although the Uruk had moved away from the hobbits. **_'Hmm_**…' Bloggin's mind told him, **_'that at least is good.' _**But then another hobbit came hurtling out of nowhere, knocking the Pippin hobbit off his feet and down a slope. Bloggin was startled to hear his mind cursing in astonishment. **_'Quickly_**!' His mind urged, **_'go and stop them!_**' But before he could act on the instruction, another something… what? It didn't look like a hobbit… **_'Never mind what it is!_**' His mind was making his eyes spin in his head, it made Bloggin quite dizzy. **_'Go and stop Frodo and Pippin! NOW_**!'

Bloggin scrambled to his feet, anxious to keep his imperious mind happy. He started forward, ready to fling himself down the incline after the two struggling hobbits, but something else caught his eye.

Three men had arrived on horses and, each armed with a crossbow, were aiming their bolts at his Captain and his opponent, both of whom were quite oblivious to the new arrivals, caught up in their own life and death struggle.

Before his mind could protest, Bloggin barrelled into Smagnu, catching the Uruk around the legs and toppling him over backwards. The Uruk roared in anger at the little orc "Grruuurgghh! Bloggin you moron – gedd the fugh orf!"

Almost as fiercely, his mind screamed at him to obey at once. **_'Boggin you fool! The hobbits! The hobbits!'_**

Bloggin ignored all these entreaties, throwing himself across his prone Captain's chest as three bolts slammed passed them and embedded in the ground just behind Smagnu's head.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Merry was fighting for his life. In spite of being exhausted, sick and half blinded from the blows raining down on his head, he reached up with both hands and managed to grab a spindly neck and squeezed with all his might.

As Merry's hands closed around the thin skin and bone, a rush of sickening recognition made his heart sink and his anger rise.

"Yieeee! Nassty little hobbit! Leaves usss alone! Leaves Massster alone!" The creature's head squirmed from side to side in Merry's grasp but still it beat at him with strong, bony fists.

Merry could feel himself weakening and knew he would not be able to hold the slithery Gollum off much longer. As his hands lost their hold from around the wriggling throat, Merry brought his fists up to try and protect his head from the renewed onslaught of blows. Then he managed to scramble back up the slope on all fours, kicking desperately as the loosened scree peppered down onto his pursuing enemy.

"Oh he's not such a blind hobbitses any more," Gollum taunted, "but we can sees him too, yesss we can my Precious! We sees everything! We sees what Massster seess and he killeded the Pippin! Oh he hassss he hassss!"

"Hold your tongue you slimy thing!" Merry felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him at the mention of Pippin. What had Frodo done to him? He managed to reach the top of the incline, but he could no longer find Pippin or Frodo. They must have rolled further along than he thought. Mr Smagnu was still fighting with the man that had come. "Oh no! Stop! Please stop!" Merry had at last remembered who the man was and what he had to tell Smagnu.

Before he could cry out again several things happened. The little orc Bloggin flew, as if out of nowhere, to land forcefully on his Captain's leg, actually bowling the Uruk over. Three iron bolts slammed into the ground just above Smagnu's head. Gollum leapt high over the edge of the ridge, landing on Merry's back and dragged the hobbit down to the ground and began belabouring him about the head once more.

Suddenly the hammering on his head stopped and he realised that the battering had finished as he heard an angry voice. "Gerroff him you maggot!"

Merry's eyes blinked opened in time to see a bundle of squirming arms and legs being lifted bodily off the ground. "Sam! Sam! What's happening? Where's Pip and Frodo?" He pushed himself up to a sitting position, frantically trying to locate where everyone had got to.

"I don't rightly know Mr Merry," Sam was bear hugging Gollum into submission, in spite of his screeching and kicking. "They're not here. Urrgg! Keep still you blighter! All as I can see is a couple of orcs and those men Mr Frodo and I saw before."

0-0-0-0-0-0

As Frodo stared down at Pippin, lying unconscious beneath his hands, he began to tremble with anxiety. Why was he doing this? **_Was_** the Ring making him behave so? The image of his prone cousin shifted and his beleaguered mind fled away to another time and place.

The year was 1408 and Frodo was in Buckland for the wake and farewellfest to Rorimac "Goldfather" Brandybuck, better known as Old Rory, Master of Buckland.

Old Rory was Frodo's Uncle and also Merry's Grandfather and, with his passing, Merry was now the second in line to the title, Master of Buckland, after his father Saradoc, a position which would carry with it far more gravitas and attention to duty than had been required of 26 year old Meriadoc before.

"I'll go here shall I?" Frodo dropped his bag on the small cot in the corner of Merry's bedroom.

"Certainly not, honoured and esteemed, older cousin!" Merry grinned as he retrieved the luggage and placed it ceremoniously on his own well sprung bed, "you're sleeping here. Can't have you making do – whatever will they say about Buckland hospitality back in Hobbiton?"

"About the same as they'll say about Hobbit manners at Brandy Hall if I leave you hunched up on that little cot!" Frodo laughed. "Besides I wouldn't want to deprive you of your own bed!"

"Oh I wasn't sleeping here anyway," Merry said quickly, "Mum is sharing with Grandma Gilda, she's still not used to sleeping alone and I'm in with Dad, just while we're so crowded!"

"So who is the cot…" before Frodo could finish a curly head appeared around the bedroom door.

"Hello Merry! Your Mum says I'm in here!" Pippin Took threw his small satchel onto the big bed and jumped on after it. "Are we sharing with Frodo! Hello Fro where are you sleeping? That baby bed looks a bit small, even for me!"

"No it isn't," Merry took the satchel off the bed and put it firmly on the cot. "You can sleep on here, you slept on it last Yule and you've not grown a whit since then."

"I have grown exactly three eighths of a quarter of an inch!" Pippin stated indignantly, his hands on his hips. "Anyway, I didn't sleep on it at Yule, remember Merry? I crept in and slept with you."

"Yes," Merry pretended to grimace, "my ribs are still black and blue. You are very bony Pip. Anyway, I'm not sleeping in here at all. You and Frodo are sharing and I'm in with Dad – in a hammock."

"Ooooh!" Pippin's eyes grew round with excitement. "You could bring it in here and I could sleep in it! Please Merry! That would be excellent – you, me and Fro! We'd be snug as bugs in rugs!"

"Pippin!" Frodo sighed, "there's no need to contradict everyone's plans? Merry's parents have worked out all the sleeping arrangements and they might be offended if you change them."

"It doesn't really matter," Merry laughed good naturedly, "Mum just didn't want to crowd you, but the hammock could fit in here, only **_I'm_** sleeping in it mind! If I let you in it Pip, you'll be swinging and bouncing around all night and no one will get any peace."

"All right then," Pippin agreed. "Just as long as I can be in with you two and I can just have a **_little_** go in the hammock Merry – pleeeeese?"

"Do you mind Fro?" Merry did not want to put his older cousin's nose out of joint, but he had trouble denying Pippin anything, especially as, when their families visited with each other, he had always shared Merry's room, and often as not his bed, ever since he was little.

"Oh I suppose so," Frodo rolled his eyes at the thought of Pippin's exuberance all night, "but no Tookish plotting or schemes! No sneaking into the kitchen to make a secret giant cake or boiling up hops in the bath to see if we can make our own beer or climbing up the chimney to see where it goes or… or…"

"I'll behave Fro, promise!" Pippin was renowned for enticing other cousins into his ill-conceived plans, "although Eroo was certain that the giant cake would have worked if we could have just got it into the oven and I was thinking…"

"Pip…" Merry was standing behind Frodo and shaking his head so his older cousin could not see. "You shouldn't listen to Eroo so much and please don't let him bother Frodo again."

"Right!" Pippin stopped at once, "I'll go and fetch the hammock, shall I? Right!" And before either cousin could make any other objections he was gone.

"I thought Esmeralda wasn't going to put me in with Pippin again," Frodo looked plaintively at Merry, "besides, I was looking forward to spending some time with you Cuz, it's been so long."

"I know Fro," Merry winced as he spoke, "but he's really grown up lately and he's so eager to please."

"Which is the aspect of Pippin that bothers me the most," Frodo pointed out, "that and his appalling friend Eroo. I suppose I am being selfish but I'm worried that now you are second in line to being Master of Buckland, you won't be able to spend so much time with me and I'd wanted us to have time for a long talk, you know like we used to before Old Rory got poorly and Saradoc had to take over so much."

"Don't worry Fro." Merry put his arm on his cousin's shoulder, "it won't be so bad. Dad has said I'll actually have a bit more time now that he has taken over completely. He doesn't want to swamp me at this stage. He says I'll have enough to do when I'm Master and that day is a long way away."

"Still," Frodo sighed, "it does not alleviate the current Pippin problem."

"Pip's very sweet, in spite of Eroo being his friend," Merry insisted, "and quite entertaining. Just try and enjoy him for tonight and tomorrow you and I can take a long walk together. Bluebell will make us a packed lunch and we'll stay out all day until dinnertime."

-o-o-o-

The following day Merry and Frodo set off straight after breakfast. They took the winding lane towards the Old Forest and wandered along the side of the Hedge for three or so miles before stopping for a rest in a clearing under the shade of a great elm.

"Well Merry," Frodo rubbed at his ribs, "you're right about Pippin being entertaining, although I'm not sure about sweet. I swear I'm black and blue all over, to say nothing of my shattered nerves."

"You have to admit that his double turn backwards somersault out of the hammock and onto the cot was pretty spectacular," Merry chortled, "quite the finale to his **_Pippin and Eroo – the Stupendous Double Hammock Acrobat Show_**!

"Yes," Frodo agreed, "I can't deny it was spectacular, particularly as it broke both the hammock and the cot in one fell swoop. Especially as he tried to blame it on his stupid friend for not catching him!"

"Hmm, I know Eroo can be a bit perfidious at times." Merry was on quite familiar terms with Pippin's friend, "I suppose we should have made them both sleep on the floor after that."

"Well it wasn't from want of trying," Frodo pointed out, "but when he wriggled in between us for the twentieth time and snuggled under my arm and pretended to snore, I had to admit defeat."

"I know," Merry agreed, "that's one of his favourite strategies! I always capitulate at that point too. Although I thought you were a bit harsh, calling him a _flibberty-gibbet who was absolutely good for nothing and his daft friend too_!"

"Oh well," Frodo grimaced at the memory, "he was pretending to sleep so it serves him right. Besides, everything is a joke with Pippin, and this friend of his is more than peculiar."

"I know, but he gets lonely at home with just his three sisters for company and Eroo likes to do the same things as Pip." Although Merry was a lot younger than Frodo, he had much better experience at getting on with the younger cousins and with Pippin in particular, "he hero-worships you Fro and, one harsh word from you goes very deep with him."

"Surely not," Frodo was not aware of being any kind of a hero, "why would he look up to me?"

"All kinds of reasons," Merry said mysteriously. He was not going to explain to Frodo that much of it was Frodo's serious side. His brave stoicism at losing both parents so young; his obvious skill with reading and writing, which Pippin lacked, and his general wisdom and worldliness, which, for a hobbit, was remarkable, "but you could drop him a crumb or two occasionally."

"You mean such as reading to him when he begs constantly," Frodo realised that he had not always been generous with his time to the youngster, perhaps that is why he makes such odd friends. "I do feel bad about that, but he does insist I read to both of them and that's what bothers me."

"Only because he adores you." Merry shrugged, "I suppose someone had to tell you."

"Oh dear! Now I feel bad for giving him the slip this morning," Frodo started to rummage about in his haversack, "It's not that I don't adore my little cousin, but…"

"I know, I know!" Merry laughed, "You don't have to explain to me, I'm the first cousin and so I get the most visits."

"He's just so…" Frodo looked up from hunting through the haversack to search in the air for the right word to describe Pippin, "…so enthusiastic!" Frodo set to his task of rooting about in his cousin's bag, "Merry? Did you put the lunch in?"

"Er no!" Merry felt a momentary panic, "I thought you had!"

"It seems we are lacking," Frodo sighed, "unless you have a friend like Eroo who is carrying it behind us."

"No," Merry shook his head sadly, "I don't have any such thing. Does that mean we are without lunch?"

"I'm afraid so," Frodo dropped both bags in despair, "unless you fancy walking back and maybe collecting them and Pippin at the same time."

"Well, perhaps that wouldn't be such a…"

"No!" Frodo was emphatic, "It's not that I don't enjoy Pip's company, but this is to be our day. You're my best friend in all the world Merry," Frodo's voice softened as he took his cousin's hand, "but we hardly manage to spend any time with just us these days. I'll spend time with Pippin for the rest of the visit – I promise."

"Well," Merry squeezed Frodo's hand back. He suspected his older cousin was a little jealous of his easy relationship with the much younger Pippin, but then Merry was in the middle of his two cousins, age-wise, and that did make things difficult sometimes. "I'm sure we can find some apples, and the blackberries are just coming in nicely, to say nothing of the beech nuts, so we won't starve."

"Maybe even a few mushrooms, courtesy of Farmer Maggot?" Frodo winked knowingly at his cousin. Merry had heard the tales of Frodo's scrumping exploits in the Farmer's field, although never been a part of them.

"Now there's something you could teach me!" Merry's eyes lit up. "Although I suspect we're a little too old now to get away with such things without public disgrace and humiliation."

"True," Frodo nodded. "Now if Pippin had been with us, we could have sent him and his friend…"

"Eroo," Merry supplied helpfully.

"Yes, Eroo," Frodo gave Merry a baffled look at his total acceptance of Pippin's strange comrade. "We could have sent them to pinch some mushrooms."

-o-o-o-

"Merry! Frodo! Meeeerrrrry! Froooodoooo! Oh botheration! Where are they?" Pippin had been running and walking for more than an hour in pursuit of his two older cousins. He did not know for certain which path they had taken, but his best guess was the route Merry had used on their last outing, which was to follow the line of the Hedge.

"I can't believe they walked this fast, Eroo!" Although 23 years old now, Pippin was still in the habit of talking to his childhood imaginary friend, who was apparently called, Eroo a'Reroo, but Eroo for short, when he lacked any other audience, "and if I don't find them soon, they won't have any lunch!" The horror of this situation was deeply felt by Pippin, and Eroo, neither of whom ever deliberately missed a prescribed meal.

"_Spling_!" said Eroo, who was also in the habit of talking to Pippin when he was alone, "_you go takens you good grubs quickerly and quick quick more going go!"_ Although Pippin had matured and grown up considerably since he first met his invisible friend, Eroo himself was still inclined to be fairly incoherent.

"That's all very well for you to say," Pippin put on his best indignant tone, "but I'm not even sure if I've gone the right way."

"_Pog! Haa!"_ Eroo remarked, "_you climbs go see far see! Up and up go_!"

"What?" Even Pippin had trouble understanding his imaginary friend sometimes.

"_Cleek_!" Eroo insisted, "_tree go big up and up_!"

"Ohhh!" Pippin looked up into the branches of the oak he was standing beneath, "that is a good tall tree, I might well see them from there."

Taking Eroo's advice to heart, Pippin clambered up the tree to the topmost branches. Although his view was impeded towards the Old Forest, he had a good view in three other directions and suddenly, about a furlong away, he spotted Merry and Frodo. "Oi! Merry! Fro! Can you see me?" Pippin waved excitedly as he shouted at the top of his voice.

"_Glick!"_ Eroo shouted, "_hold tightly tighter!"_

"Whoops! Yeeks!" Eroo's advice came too late! Pippin, in his excitement, had momentarily forgotten that waving with two hands does not leave enough hands to hold on to the tree. He made a desperate grab at the branch he was sitting on but not quickly enough, as he soon was not sitting on it at all, but falling earthwards through the leaves and twigs frantically trying to get hold of something as he fell.

All the branches eluded Pippin as he tumbled, but his satchel, slung round his neck, had better luck. It snagged itself on a protruding stump that had been struck by lightening in the tree's distant youth. Pippin was caught abruptly, his descent arrested violently by the satchel's strap tightening around his chest, the contents of the bag, Merry and Frodo's lunch, scattering out and into the mud.

"Oh no! Frodo, Merry! Your lunch!" Pippin began to wail. He wriggled as he reached up to try and dislodge the strap, but his weight was more than he could lift and the movement only caused his arms to slip through the strap. As he slid through, the webbing caught around his neck and tightened. Pippin thrashed frantically and then choked, as the strap around his windpipe began to strangle his breathing and gradually Pippin felt himself growing weak and dizzy.

-o-o-o-

"Frodo! I just heard the strangest thing!" Merry clasped his cousin's arm so tightly that Frodo almost winced. "Pippin's friend – he just shouted in my ear!"

"What?" Frodo shook his head in amazement, "Merry, is the lack of food affecting your reason perhaps?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted, "But Eroo a'Reroo just spoke – well shouted at me as plain as plain. It's Pippin and he's in terrible trouble! We have to go back along the path, quickly!"

"I don't find the information hard to believe," Frodo said grimly, "but Merry, you shouldn't be talking to other people's imaginary friends!"

"I didn't!" Merry said indignantly as he pulled Frodo up off the ground, "I never talk to him, ever! He talks to me though sometimes, always about Pippin and this time it's really serious. Come on."

The hobbits fled back along the path, Merry never wavering from his course. It was as if Eroo was guiding him and he almost fancied he could see a strange wispy light in front of him showing the way.

"Pip!" Merry froze for two heartbeats in horror, then frantically tore up the tree, stubbing his toe and scraping the skin off his palms and knees in the process. Wordlessly, Frodo glanced around and then quickly pushed two large rocks underneath where his cousin was dangling and topped them off with a rotting log. He climbed up his improvised tower and was just able to get his shoulders under Pippin's feet. Pushing upwards as hard as he could, Frodo was able to take the pressure off the stricken hobbit's neck, while Merry untangled the satchel from the tree.

As Pippin's lifeless body was released, Frodo managed to catch most of his weight and the two of them tumbled to the ground together. Frodo desperately loosened the webbing further and then tore the buttons from Pippin's shirt collar. "Pip! Pip! Come on – breathe!" Frodo pumped on his cousin's chest, horrified at the blue lips and cheeks and the stomach-clenching stillness. "Please Pip! If not for me, then do it for Eroo! Eroo doesn't want anything to happen to you. Come on Pippin – breathe! For Eroo's sake! Breathe!

"Pip! Breathe!" Frodo, without recollection of his actions, had loosened Pippin's clothing around his neck and was now leaning on his chest with both hands, pumping at his cousin's chest. "Come on Pippin! Please for Eru's sake! Breathe!"

As if by command, Pippin's eyes flashed open as wide as they would go and he took a deep, laboured breath. He gave a choking cough and then, his eyes still wide, now with wonder, wheezed "Eroo? Fro, was it be Eroo?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

As the three bolts thudded into the ground behind the prone Uruk, Majdi Rann turned away from his enemy in time to see his fellow servants reloading. Their next target was not especially clear, but Rann was taking no chances and dropped to the ground in a fluid, practiced movement that showed he was used to taking cover fast and routinely.

Smagnu was on his elbows, Bloggin hiding easily behind one of the Uruk's great legs, and edged forward slightly to get a better view of the new arrivals who had rather rudely announced their presence by trying to kill him. Obviously polite introductions were now out of the question so Smagnu was interested in seeing whether he could rampage over and rip their heads off or if something more subtle was needed.

It took several moments for the Uruk to realise that the man he had been fighting was now also taking cover from these new assailants, in fact he was crouching quite close to Smagnu and reaching for his own crossbow, still slung across his back.

Smagnu growled ominously, a cornered Uruk-hai is not a pleasant sight and an even less pleasant opponent. With a speed that belied his great bulk, Smagnu leapt forward and smashed a great fist down on Majdi's back and wrenched the crossbow from his hand.

Another volley of bolts ricocheted off the rocks behind them, Smagnu's sudden move obviously spoiling the aim of all three marksmen. The Uruk dropped low again, clutching his prize.

"Hssss, you've got no bolts you idiot!" Majdi had recovered from the blow and pushed himself up on one elbow. "What are you going to do with it? Give it back and I'll shoot the buggers!"

"You give me the bolts!" Smagnu was not certain which side this man was on. He had been trying to kill him until these others had turned up, so it would be reasonable to assume that the next bolt he fired would be at him. "They ain't no good to you without the bow! Quick you stupid tosspot! Before they fire again!"

Majdi was not used to be spoken to by orcs in quite this way, especially the "tosspot" part, but he could see the logic of the Uruk's argument. Besides, if the shots missed and it transpired his former colleagues were not trying to kill him after all, it were better for the Uruk's finger to be on the trigger. He grabbed a fistful of bolts from the short quiver hung on his belt and held them out.

Smagnu grabbed, loaded and fired with a dexterity that belied his bulk and apparent slow wits and, although the bolt missed all three targets, it made them scurry for cover behind each other, which would have been quite amusing to watch had the situation not been so fraught with impending death and failure. The three eventually settled for a pile of boulders, further back than their original position. By the time they reached their cover Smagnu was reloaded and so were they, although none of the antagonists could take proper aim as they feared to stick their heads up, less they present an easy target. Deadly bolts began sporadically flying in both directions, hitting nothing but rocks.

"**_Now_**!" Bloggin's mind insisted, "**_could we please go and find the hobbits?"_**

0-0-0-0-0-0

Merry scrambled to his feet and reached inside the mithril shirt and managed to do what the orcs could not; unwind the elven rope from his body. He regretted divesting himself of the enchanted cord which had seemed to defend him from every attack, but poor Sam would not be able to hold the squirming Gollum creature for much longer.

"Here Sam, let me tie it with this!" Merry managed to loop the rope around Sméagol, who had now given up fighting and taken instead to howling. "My but you're a sight for sore eyes Samwise Gamgee! I wish I had time to tell you how glad I am to see you."

"Aiiiieeeee! Not bad elf-twisted rope! Nassty cruel hobbitses! Aie!…aie…aie!"

"Aye Mr Merry," Sam finished off the binding with a firm Gamgee knot, completely ignoring Gollum's protests, "and mighty thankful I am to see you too, and that you can see me! Now, where did Mr Frodo go? That's what we got to figure. Look out!"

As Sam turned around, frantically looking for his missing Master, he narrowly missed being skewered by a stray bolt. He and Merry both fell flat on the ground, dragging Gollum with them.

"Aie! Aie! Nassty wicked orcsess bones! Tries to kill poor Sméagol. Evil elf-twist rope! Then orcsess darts! Cruel hobbitesess using poor Sméagol as fishesss bait they does! Nassty hobbitesess!"

"Be quiet!" Sam jerked on the rope as he tried to understand the impasse that had occurred between the men and the orcs. "Mr Merry?" Although he desperately needed to find Frodo, Sam felt this situation might pose a threat as well. "What is going on here? Who are all these… these men and orcs and what like? And what is Mr Gandalf's special horse doing here as well?"

"It's all a little complicated Sam," Merry could hardly put it all together himself, "but, as far as I can remember, the two orcs and the man with them are friends, although not necessarily with each other. The others are enemies, with pretty much everyone."

"Well that's good to know." Sam rolled carefully over so that he would be out of range of further missiles. "Come on we'd best find Mr Frodo."

Before Sam could move any further, the small orc who had been sheltering with the large orc, broke cover and ran recklessly over to the two hobbits. He looked warily at Gollum, but crouched down next to Merry. "Mr New Pip, Your Honour, Sir," Bloggin, like Smagnu, had not quite sorted out who was who, "Does yer knows where Mr Pip is got to?"

"We're looking," Merry told the orc, "you can help, just keep down."

The odd search party began to crawl along the ridge, gradually moving down the slope and out of range of the sporadic fire. Gollum still wailing at the top of his lungs and Bloggin continuing to give him a wide berth.

"Sam, I don't like this," Merry could not understand how Frodo and Pippin could have travelled so far away from their original position. "Frodo was throttling Pip when last I saw them – when this thing!" He poked his furry foot at Gollum, "…attacked me! I'm terribly worried something awful has happened!"

"Where have they gone?" Sam's tone echoed Merry's near panic, "Both of them! It makes no sense!"

Bloggin suddenly and unexpectedly cleared his throat, "Samwise?"

Sam jumped at the familiar, and yet incongruous tone of the little orc's voice, "Wh-what?"

"You need to ask Gollum!" Bloggin explained hurriedly. "He will know, make him tell you where they are!"

Sam shook his head, trying to work out where he knew that kindly yet masterful tone from. He sensibly decided there was no time, gave up and did as told. "Oi!" Sam jerked on the rope again, "You! Stop your caterwauling and tell us where Mr Frodo and Mr Pippin have gone! Come on! "Sam bent down to grab the howling creature by the arms and shake him, "where are they?"

"Not know! Aiiiieeeee! Sméagol issss losst! Preciousssss! My Precioussss! Masssster is losssst! We can't feels him! Nooooooo! Masssster come back! All Gone! Gone!"

0-0-0-0 **To be continued** 0-0-0-0

**_Author's Notes_**  
Hope this wasn't too long to wait this time. Next chapter will be along shortly, please talk amongst yourselves until then, but don't go away!  
**_Heddwch!  
Llinos_**

**_Sam_**: And what is it about the hobbits that make them change other peoples behaviour? Lol.  
**_Llinos:_** Well indeed! And not just characters, look at the whole of fandom!

**_TXMedic_**: Oh, you updated! What a wonderful pick-me-up after a dreadful week.  
**_Llinos:_** Hope you have a better week to go with this next update!

**_Hai Took:_** I had run off from the LOTR/fanfic world here for about a year now  
**_Llinos:_** Noooooooooooooooooooooo!  
**_Hai Took:_** but slowly I have been inexplicably pulled back,  
**_Llinos_**: Phew!  
**_Hai Took:_** I think this story might have something to do with my return ;)  
**_Llinos: _**Well I'm glad it serves some useful purpose!

**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: Of course, I'm still here!  
**_Llinos:_** Cheers for another loyal reader!  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: You're still doing a great job, and I thank you for all you've put into it.  
**_Llinos: _**And thank **_you_** for all the effort you put into your reviews! Much appreciated!

**_harrowcat:_** I usually limit myself to another place as I really don't have time to browse here too.  
**_Llinos: _**I know that feeling! I probably should post in other places, but it all gets a bit much!**_  
harrowcat:_** Thanks for the recap too. I may use my birthday to re-read at least some of it as I have the day off.  
**_Llinos:_** Well I hope you have, or probably have had by now, a Very Happy Birthday!

**_sarahsweeties:_** thank you so much llinos and marigold! I'm so glad you've got it back up. that's what I plan on doing for my stories, hopefully.  
**_Llinos:_** You should – don't abandon poor blameless stories to the wind and rain.

**_GabrielKenobi_**: Pippin gets throttled by Frodo "tries to stop smirking" snip much evil Frodo ranting (and don't forget that Frodo's evil!)  
**_Llinos: _**Behave! **_B.E.G!_**

**_slightlytookish:_** Oh a cliffie! How cruel!  
**_Llinos:_** Wouldn't be right not to have one!  
**_slightlytookish:_** Glad to see you updating again :)  
**_Llinos: _**And glad to see you still reviewing! Thanks!


	41. Ilúvatar Adiuvante

**Ilúvatar Adiuvante  
****Recaptured - Chapter 133**

Author: **Llinos**  
Beta: **Marigold**

The blue path was stained with mud and was becoming harder to follow. Yet the Dark Mind pressed forward with all His force. There it was again! A minute speck of dirty blue, but around it was wreathed dancing tendrils of sparkling quicksilver that were out of place. He sensed the discomfort of the mercurial strands, a growing confusion from an overlong exposure to the foreign consciousness. The muddy blotch was too diminutive; too fragmented to hold its host, so why was such a powerful entity there at all?

Silver beams emanated from the blue smudge, spilling out from the tiny thoughts that they were trying to direct – where? To follow It! His Ring – It was close now. But there was more!

The two parts, the indivisible that had been divided by Its will for preservation, were drawing nearer, almost touching! He could wait no longer, any delay now and the halves would be forced to be whole again and, being whole, the blinding silver force would emerge from the mud-stained blot and seize It!

He could feel the power of that veiled mind. It was trying to disguise itself, but it was too strong. Once the Ring coalesced, the silver light would grasp the Ring and wield It – against Him! He must act now!

Sauron surged forward and slammed a deep black barricade across the silver thoughts. He turned to confront it and compel it to fight. The struggle would be unequal and The Dark Lord knew He could force it before Him into a void from whence there would be no redemption – not this time.

First though Sauron must force His enemy out into the open. He pressed a small corner of His mind down onto the blue mud spot, crushing it as one might squash an ant.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Pippin! Pip, are you all right?" Frodo held his cousin by the shoulders and shook him, "I thought I'd… that is I was so demented, I thought I'd killed you!"

"Not Fro, you not…you notted go kill at We!" Pippin put his hands on top of Frodo's in an attempt to stop the shaking. "You go be to kill We for a littel minute and you not stop judderings We!"

"What?" Frodo stopped the shaking and held Pippin out at arm's length, studying him carefully for the first time. "Talk properly Pip. What's wrong with you? I can't understand a word you're saying."

Pippin gasped and coughed, trying to recover from the near strangling, followed by the shaking. "We speaks keep go scattercakes! Not can't help We do it!"

"Well at least you're talking again." Frodo's mind, which was still fogged by his own near death and the deprivations of his journey through Mordor, was suddenly jolted back to the last time he had seen his cousin in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. "And you can hear again. What of Merry? Can he see?"

"Can." Pippin was still struggling for breath and both he and Frodo fell silent; Frodo's hands still on Pippin's shoulders and Pippin's hands locked tightly over his cousin's. They both took enormous lungfuls of the murky, sulphur-filled air; their shoulders rising and falling in unison, trying to regain their breath and senses. As the two hobbits knelt there, in a gully of pyroclastic rocks in the depths of the dim gloom of Mordor, both tried frantically to understand why they felt a burning resentment for each other.

It was hideous. Frodo had loved Pippin from the first time the smiling baby had grabbed one of his curls and steadfastly refused to let go. Now, something deep inside him, that he vaguely knew was not part of him, wanted to tear his dear cousin limb from limb.

Pippin knew he adored Frodo, even now, with him staring wildly at him with his frenzied blue eyes growing even bigger; he still did – always would. But a nagging growl, deep in his belly, was telling him to push Frodo away, to pin him down on the black pumice and smash his handsome, dark head into the rocks.

"Pip," Frodo finally managed to find his voice, "you have to give It to me."

"Not!" Pippin felt his knuckles involuntarily curl more tightly over his cousin's hands. "Not can't."

"Must!" Frodo gasped, "Pip, It's not meant for you. It's mine, my burden. I have to do this. I- I don't want you… hurt."

"But Eroo sayering not!" Pippin was not even sure how he knew this. "Eroo sayed We got both get go It."

"Eru?" Frodo blinked, the intensity of his stare waning, "What do you know of Eru?"

"He go be friend of We," Pippin too let his grip loosen slightly. "You got be membering of Eroo! He came-ded back at We and save-ded We and he sayering not give at you Fro, got We be togethrer and do right-most thing!"

"You mean your imaginary childhood friend?" Frodo almost laughed, "Pip, you said goodbye to him years ago. Remember? Merry and I made you send him away."

"Do!" It was, in fact, shortly after the incident when Pippin almost hanged himself from the tree. When Esmeralda and Eglantine had heard the whole story, including the part where Eroo had encouraged Pippin to climb the tree in the first place, they had cajoled, threatened and pleaded with Merry and Frodo to stop Pippin from indulging in imaginary friends of any kind. "And he just came-ded back at We – just now. We not askering for he, but he here now." Pippin released his grip on Frodo and pointed behind him. "Look!"

Although Frodo knew better than to fall for Pippin's tricks of that nature, he felt compelled to turn and see what his cousin was pointing at. A vague shadowy shape was coalescing in the dimness of the gully. It floated past Frodo and hovered over Pippin, shimmering ethereal fingers of mist curling around the hobbit's face and neck in silent benediction.

"Wh-what are you?" Frodo stammered in disbelief. Although Merry had told him he had seen Eroo, he had thought his cousin was being whimsical. Merry knew that Frodo loved tales of magick and myth – they both did, but Eroo was just a fanciful notion.

Frodo had not really expected an answer, but a voice, both smiling and sad, fell into his head, from where he could not tell. _"I am sent."_

"Ar-are you Eru?" Frodo could not take his eyes from the ghostlike being, but was aware that Pippin was calming under his mysterious touch. "I-I mean of the elves, Ilúvatar?"

Mithril-like laughter preceded the voice, which was oddly familiar, but Frodo could not place. "_But a scion, a merest sliver of The One. I am sent to watch over this child._" The mystical fingers continued to play over Pippin. "_He, like you, has a destiny, but it is almost too great for such a small one to bear alone. He has fortitude, but his blood is fae, therefore, I was sent._"

"And you were Pip's imaginary friend?" Frodo suddenly realised that perhaps Pippin had not been so daft as a child after all. He felt a flush of embarrassment when he recalled that Merry and he had sent this benevolent deity away.

"_You did not send me from him_." The being could obviously read his thoughts. "_I watched, but it is not my purpose to interfere, only to guide. That was why I guided Meriadoc that day."_

"But your voice is…" Frodo broke off as he sensed the being already understood his question.

"_Not as Pippin reported? Frodo, the voice you hear is your own. So was the voice Pippin heard as very small child, and so he hears me still."_

"Fro?" Pippin broke his reverie, obviously holding his own private conversation with Eroo a'Reroo. "Is you go chatterling at Eroo?"

Frodo nodded his head, "Yes Pip, I always thought you were making it up, that Eroo was imaginary."

"Was imag-gan-iry lot times," Pippin admitted, "but onerly when We does not good games. But go be real friend of We othrer times, speech-ually when We be on We owns."

"So is he here to help us?" Frodo dimly realised that the presence of the being seemed to be diminishing the hatred between them. "What must we do?"

"_I cannot do this for you."_ Eroo spoke once more, "_but I can stop some of the evil that is not of your making, for much of it comes from a higher power than should walk Eä and therefore I may dispel it for you."_

Eroo reached out his tendril fingers to encompass Frodo and a lightening spark flew from the hobbit's breast. Frodo cried out in pain and clutched at his chest. Then his face relaxed and he took a deep breath. "You've taken him away! Sméagol, I can't feel him any more."

"_That is one thing I may do_," Eroo continued. "_There is one more act that will resolve your dilemma. Now I will speak with Pippin and explain what you both must do, you may listen."_

"Eroo?" Pippin looked up lovingly at his long lost friend. "You go helpering We's?"

_"Cleek! Taking take It. Poog, yes gettings Rings in hands now! Both you quick and quickerly!"_

Frodo was startled at the change in Eroo's voice, but realised that this was how Pippin had always heard him, from when he was a baby. With a surprising lack of reluctance, both hobbits reached inside their clothing and grasped their half Ring and held It up to Eroo.

_"Paags! Touch and touching both together, press It back to One! Quickerly do and do!"_

Pippin and Frodo looked at each other, both still reluctant to relinquish their claim to an exclusive hold of the Ring of Power. The Ring Itself was screaming inside their heads, "No! Kill him, take Me! Kill! I am Yours, No One may take Me from You!"

But silently the ethereal fingers inexorably impelled their hands to meet and, as the two Rings touched, there was a golden flash of light and the Ring, roaring and protesting inside their heads so that both hobbits were almost overcome with the agony of it, coalesced once more into One.

As the melding completed, Frodo and Pippin fell senseless to the ground, both shocked with the enormity of what they had done and wracked with pain inflicted at the moment of meeting, as the Ring, burning ferociously in a frantic effort not to be joined had thrown all Its animosity, power and hate through the small, defenceless bodies.

Both hobbits had burns on their hands and arms and blood ran from Frodo's nose. A bruise grew large and round on Pippin's forehead from where he had hit the ground and his forefinger and thumb were broken and singed.

Eroo looked down on the unconscious hobbits and then cast his thoughts above, "_This was more than was expected. May I perform one last service for them?_" And his arms enclosed around the two and, lifting them from the ground, Eroo a'Reroo lightly bore the two hobbits towards the smoking volcano of Orodruin.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Well if Stinker here don't know where Mr Frodo and Mr Pippin have gone, what'll we do now?" Sam kicked at Gollum again, "Shut your noise, we can't think!"

Merry sank to the ground, his head in his hands. There was scarcely a part of his being that did not ache or throb. His recent beatings and brushes with death had left him drained, both physically and emotionally – he had even lost Pippin again and now Frodo with him. "I don't know Sam, but we do need to find them – and quickly!"

"Are you up to it?" Sam studied Merry doubtfully, "you look about done in."

"I'll last as long as I have to." Merry took a long breath, trying to summon some nonexistent reserve of strength. "I feel worse now that elven rope is off, I think it was holding me together somehow."

Another bolt flew over their heads and skewered into the ground just beyond them. "Aich!" Merry was brought back to another more immediate problem, "Mr Smagnude! Sam, we have to help him and explain about the other man."

Sam did not understand this himself, but realised now was not the time for lengthy explanations, the battle between the men and the orc and the other man was still raging fiercely and Mr Merry seemed to know what was going on.

Bloggin decided to take action and, keeping low, darted to retrieve the bolt that had just missed them and crawled over to Smagnu. "Shall I get some more Cap'n? There's a batch o' 'em in the gully."

"Yer go and gets us some then," Smagnu growled, "but mind yerself."

As Bloggin departed on his mission, Merry and Sam had managed between them to drag Gollum, albeit still howling, over to Smagnu's refuge. As the Uruk reached out to pull Merry down, Majdi grabbed hold of the hobbit's arm and pulled Merry behind him.

"Even if you take those three out," Majdi indicated his head towards his former companions. "You're not getting this one. I promised to save him and I'll die before I let you take him to his death!"

Smagnu kept his eyes firmly fixed on his assailants, letting fly another bolt as he spoke, "I don't mean New Little Pip no harm, he knows that."

"But you…" Majdi's protest was cut short as another bolt came too close for comfort and Smagnu caught hold of Sam, pulling him out of the way of the deadly crossbows.

"Get down!" Smagnu snarled, and kept a warning arm across Sam as another onslaught of bolts peppered the rocks behind them.

Merry was shaken from being abruptly pulled into Majdi's protection. As he recovered he realised he needed to explain the situation to his two fierce guardians before they killed each other. "Mr Smagnude, this man did promise to help me. He said he was going to come after me and take me from you – only I didn't know then it would be you. He said he'd not let the Uruk take me to Barad-dûr."

Smagnu squinted at Majdi with puzzlement, his suspicions not quite dispelled, "what was he going to do with you then?"

"I didn't know," Majdi admitted, "I just knew he was blameless and I've had my fill of preying on the weak and innocent for this life. I planned to take him to safety – if I could find any in this forsaken wilderness – or die in the attempt."

"Please Sir," Merry tugged at Majdi's arm, "Mr Smagnude is my friend. He's protected me from even greater peril than this and saved my life several times over."

"And mine!" Sam, not to be left out, delivered a jaw dropping revelation to the four fugitives. "I recognise you now – you're the big Uruk that helped me and Mr Frodo, when we was caught up with the orc soldiers. You carried Mr Frodo when he could scarce even crawl!"

-0-0-0-0-0-

Bloggin scrambled down into the gully on all fours, scraping hands and knees in his hurry. He shoved the used bolts into his britches and, when he ran out of space, stuck two behind each ear and clenched three in his teeth.

**_'Bloggin, listen to me! Pay attention!'_**

His mind had been nagging at him for some time now, but Bloggin had been studiously trying to ignore it. The orc knew his mind wanted him to stop helping his Captain and to go and look for Little Pip hobbit, but his own muddy brain was insisting that he needed to do what he could for Cap'n Smagu first.

_'shurg ploog munnut?'_

_**'No! Not in a minute – GO NOW!'**_

"Bluuks!" Bloggin almost dropped his prize bolts in terror. His mind was obviously very angry with him. Yet still he could not find it in himself to abandon his Captain. Once more he tried to reason with his mind.

_'ish gloop smag inne - oplisssh?'_

_**'BLOGGIN! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME! THIS IS MORE IMPORTANT!'**_

Bloggin's mind was roaring at him, as it had when they first met. The little orc was shivering with fear and would have put his paws to his head if it had not meant dropping his precious bolts.

_'igggigggigggiggg?'_

'I'm sorry, now listen, you have to find the hobbits for me. Nothing else matters. If you fail in this then all is lost – including your precious Captain. Do you understand?'

_'glip – dees?'_

'Very well, just those – then you will go where I tell you.'

Bloggin began to scramble up the gully as quickly as he could with his encumbrances and, keeping low, managed to deposit his hoard of bolts at Smagnu's side.

The Uruk barely looked round, intent as he was on keeping his opponents in check. But Majdi took each bolt in turn, carefully examined it and then added it to the Uruk's store or rejected it as spoiled. At least the man and the Uruk, with Merry and Sam's revelations, had formed a tentative, albeit grudging, truce for the moment, both united by a common desire to save these strange little hobbit creatures.

A hail of fire was still emanating from the rocks concealing Vimta and his men and Merry and Sam had sensibly taken cover behind Smagnu and Majdi Rann, who themselves were hiding behind a rocky hillock and were both crouched down to avoid the incoming projectiles. Smagnu occasionally stuck his head over the edge of the refuge in order to let fly bolts at the opposition. Neither was gaining any ground or showing signs of giving up.

"It's amazing!" Merry was still reeling from Sam's news, "Of all the orcs in Mordor, you and Frodo met our Mr Smagnude."

"I don't think nuthin' could surprise me any more!" Sam ducked automatically as another bolt ricocheted off the rock above his head, "I mean, here I find you and Mr Pippin and now I've gone and lost Mr Frodo! We've got to get out of here and find them as soon as maybe!"

"Beggin' yer pardon, sirs" Bloggin put in, "but thass what me mind keeps tellin' me, only I's been argufying with me mind on account of I's not wantin' to leaves me Cap'n!"

Sam frowned at this. He understood the little orc's words, but was baffled as to the meaning. Frustrated and confused, he aimed another kick at Gollum who was still writhing and pulling at the elven rope. "Hold still you!" As Gollum temporarily subsided Sam turned back to Merry, choosing to ignore things he did not comprehend. "Well we're in a right pickle and no mistake. What'll we do now?"

"I'm not sure Sam," Merry put his hands to his head in deep concentration, "I can't even feel Pip properly in my mind at the moment. It's as if he were too preoccupied with something else."

"Do not Meriadoc!" Bloggin's tone suddenly changed. "You must not search for Peregrin in your thoughts!"

Both hobbits were stunned at this incongruous manner, which they both vaguely recognised. Even Smagnu looked round briefly at the little orc's imperious command and Gollum fell to the ground with both hands clenched tightly over his head as if to ward off a blow.

Bloggin seemed unperturbed. "It is clear I need to take drastic action or you will all sit here until the world crumbles about you."

Bloggin stood up, impelled by a bravery he did not feel, ignoring the rain of bolts and the incredulous stares of the hobbits. His mind was rising to a throbbing pitch until he felt his own will crumble like ashes. An eerie blue glow started to emanate from the ragged little body and, with a force that could not be resisted, the orc snatched the crossbow from Smagnu's hands.

All was silent except for the occasional thud of a bolt against the rocks behind them. In the distance Shadowfax abruptly whinnied loudly and pawed at the ground. Bloggin took a bolt and, holding it aloft, called out, "**_hadron revia celeg_** **_ah thaer_**!"#

Bloggin placed the bolt, which now also shone with a blue light, and took aim. A flurry of fire from his intended targets had no effect on the creature, all the missiles seeming to swerve around the sapphire glow. The arrow flew and, Sam would have sworn later that he saw a track of cobalt fire, like a bolt of lightening, trail from the projectile.

Vimta Ludd was struck through the chest, a deadly blow, and the man slumped forward. His companions froze, open-mouthed at the strange creature now assailing them.

Smagnu found his voice first. "Oi Blog! That was pretty good! Can yer takes the other two out?"

Bloggin silently took the bolt that Smagnu proffered him and held it aloft once more. But, before he could utter his chant, the little orc fell to his knees, dropping the bolt and crossbow, both hands clutched to his ears in agony.

_(#Wielder of arrows, fly swift and true.)_

0-0-0-0 **To be continued** 0-0-0-0

**Author's Notes:**  
**1. A Confession**. I've taken a while to update this because I really wasn't sure where it was going. But to those of you who felt it might never be finished, the good news is, it will! I now know exacterly where it's going and Marigold, the ever faithful, is quite excited about it, so it might just be all right. Actually, it even surprised me!

**2. A Clarification** – well, an explanation. **_Eroo a'Reroo_** is not a fictional character, nor was he created to represent **_Eru,_** as far as I know. He is/was, in fact, my daughter's childhood "imaginary" friend. He lived halfway up our stairs and she would become most distressed if anyone stepped on him or in any way implied he wasn't there. You must draw your own conclusions if he is turning out to be something else. How the two names became synonymous is a complete mystery to me. Perhaps my three year old and Pippin knew/know something I don't.

On to **Q & A**

**_Spice of Life:_** After 6 days, I get to the end, and find out that it's actually NOT THE END. I am screaming, I really am.  
**_Llinos:_** The good news is, it will be, eventually, the bad news is – not yet. But here's a bit more to be going on with.

**_dancingkatz:_** Whew! I just finished reading all 132 chapters! My goodness! I probably should have reviewed each chapter but I just had to know what was happening next.  
**_Llinos:_** Well no matter, just glad to see you've made it this far!  
**_dancingkatz:_** I also appreciate your consideration in having the slash in separate/stand-alone chapters.  
**_Llinos: _**I am actually planning to revise the story and remove the slash. I gave in to clamours for slash, but feel now that it is not particularly appropriate to the story.  
**_dancingkatz:_** I have really enjoyed reading this (through the "What!"s, tears, "Oh, no"s and smiles) and am very much looking forward to the upcoming bits.  
**_Llinos: _**Good – the next few chapters should be faster now  
**_dancingkatz:_** BTW I should mention that I really, really, really like that fact that the things that happen to Merry and Pippin and the other characters are plot driven rather than gratuitous.  
**_Llinos: _**One of my pet hates too! It does not work for me when the h/c is Deus ex machina!  
**_Dancingkatz:_** (Once a resident of RAF Chicksands, Bedfordshire but now in Dayton, Ohio, USA)  
**_Llinos:_** That's where Marigold comes from! Dayton, I mean, not Chicksands. Although she is quite near Bedfordshire now! We both live in Bucks!

**_ERIN_**: I like it a lot  
**_Llinos:_** Good!

**_sarahsweeties:_** sigh im so glad i have stories to read. if i didn't, i'd go mad like frodo. poor poor frodo.  
**_Llinos:_** Well he's not quite certifiable yet, although he might need stronger medication than stories!

**_Tasha_**: Yay! Finally some updates! It's been forever!  
**_Llinos:_** Well you know how it is, what with role-plays and stuff!  
**_Tasha:_** You're right, Smag is beginning to remind me of a certain Uruk Captain.  
**_Llinos:_** I think they might be distant brothers – or kissing cousins at least!

**_slightlytookish:_** Now you have me so worried about Pippin (and also Frodo). But Pippin! He'd better be all right!  
**_Llinos:_** I like to give you something to worry about, keeps your mind off the paucity of updates!

**_Marigold Cotton:_** Where are they! I can't wait to read the next part!  
**_Llinos:_** Well you didn't – did you!

**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: GONE! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE GONE?!?!  
**_Llinos:_** "Gone past participle of Go adjective (predic.) no longer present; departed:" _OED 2006_  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot: _**Wasn't it Merry who was hanging from a tree?  
**_Llinos:_** No, Merry was hanging from the Black Gate – Chapter 32/124 – Left Hanging.  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: Oh no, wait that was Dom Monaghan...(Do you watch LOST?)  
**_Llinos_**: Yes, but not while I'm writing Recaptured – I don't do multi-tasking.  
**_Poppy Muddyfoot_**: You know I don't normally say this, but HURRY UP WITH THAT NEXT CHAPTER or I won't have any fingernails left!  
**_Llinos:_** You don't! So I'd better! I'd hate to think of you unable to scratch!

**_Sam:_** So, I have to admit that I love the opening line. It's just so awesome  
**_Llinos_**: Gosh! I've never had a first line review before – thank you!

**_Sam:_** And Pip's imaginary friend? Talk about original, lol. Never would have thought of that one.  
**_Llinos_**: Aha – but I didn't. See author's notes above!

**_Blossom:_** I think it's really sweet the way Pippin's childhood friend is so similar to a certain stuffed rabbit, gives it a nice continuity.  
**_Llinos_**: No, different universe! Errol belongs to Grey Wonderer – Eroo belongs to my daughter – who incidentally first met him back in the early 80's – long before Errol was even born (or found in a boot sale actually – don't ask!).

**_TXMedic:_** O...Eru/Eroo? Eroo speaking like Pippin does now? Very clever.  
**_Llinos:_** Can't take credit for that, inasmuch I didn't know it was going to happen – see author's notes above – weird or what?

**_harrowcat:_** Ooh the imaginary, or not so imaginary friend pops up in time for Halloween!  
**_Llinos:_** Well in view of the fact he's really "real" – perhaps he's haunting me.  
**_harrowcat:_** This is edge of the seat reading!  
**_Llinos:_** Now you must sit comfortably my love, don't want you falling and hurting yourself!

**_Hai Took:_** So, I'm curious about Pippin's imaginary friend, Eroo, (nice spin on Eru by the way) he is quite the protector, is he going to come into play again? Perhaps he will need further attention in another story? I must say from experience, imaginary friends are great fun, and sometimes the best company ;)  
**_Llinos:_** See, this is all quite out of my hands – I have no idea where Eroo came from originally – except he obviously knew my daughter quite well. Perhaps you had the same friends?  
**_Hai Took:_** Well this chapter successfully distracted me from the mountain of homework awaiting me now I must go climb on my own version of Mt. Doom:) Thanks for the update and can't wait to have more!  
**_Llinos:_** I trust you have finished your homework now, I've certainly given you enough time. v.b.g.

**_Pip4:_** I couldn't help but think that "Eroo" is really "Eru".  
**_Llinos:_** Indeed – it worries me quite a bit. Does this mean my three year old was channelling Tolkien?  
**_Pip4:_** And I hope Frodo and Pippin don't die, that would just stink.  
**_Llinos:_** Again – indeed! I rarely kill people – permanently, although I made an exception in Vimta's case, so more may follow!


	42. Adsum!

Author's Notes:

First of all, I'm very sorry for the long delay in updating this story and, have to say, am constantly amazed that it is still getting hits on a regular basis – as well as the occasional review.

(Angela – thanks for your lovely review! If you sign in or email me on Lizallinos at live dot co dot uk I would love to respond to you, or anyone else who has specific questions, in detail.)

I had not actually stopped writing it, but was trying to get the whole thing finished before posting any more in order prevent further long delays in between uploading chapters. However, I have come to the conclusion that, in order to **_avoid_** writing it, I need pressure! Therefore I am going to start putting up what I have got, partly to test the water and find out if people are still waiting for the end, and also to, hopefully, get some encouragement to finish it!

To catch up there are summaries at the top of the following chapters:

Chapter 16 (108) Getting There

Chapter 36 (128) Listen and Learn

Chapter 39 (131) Hearts and Minds

And here's a brief synopsis of the rest:

Chapter 39 (131)

Majdi Rann, who is being chased by his former colleagues, is chasing Smagnu, Frodo is chasing Pippin and Sam is chasing Frodo. Pippin suspects Bloggin is channelling Gandalf, Majdi catches up and attacks Smagnu in an attempt to "rescue" Merry from him.

While Majdi and Smagu fight, Éowyn and Gimli listen to Legolas, listening to Gandalf, listening to Bloggin.

Frodo arrives and attacks Pippin

Chapter 40 (132)

Merry tries to stop Frodo and is attacked by Gollum. Gandalf orders Bloggin to separate Frodo and Pippin but he disobeys Gandalf to go to Smagnu's aid as Majdi's pursuers have arrived. Sam arrives and rescues Merry from Gollum. Frodo has a flashback. When Merry and Sam manage to look, Frodo and Pippin have vanished and Gollum wails he can no longer "feel" Frodo in his head.

Chapter 41 (133)

Sauron, aware that the Ring is divided, finds Gandalf within the small consciousness that is Bloggin.

Eroo, Pippin's imaginary childhood friend, intervenes between Frodo and Pippin and, with their co-operation, coalesces the Ring back into One. He then, while they are unconscious because of the effects of the coalition, transports them closer to Mount Doom.

Merry manages to explain to Majdi and Smagnu that they are on the same side, followed by the stunning revelation from Sam that he knows Smagnu and that he was the Uruk who had helped him and Frodo before.

Bloggin is still scurrying around, much to Gandalf's annoyance, collecting spent bolts for Smagnu to use against the three attackers who had been chasing Majdi. Gandalf finally loses patience and, taking over the orc's body, snatches the crossbow from Smagnu and dispatches one of the attackers in short order. But before he can take out the other two, the orc drops to his knees in obvious agony.

Now read on...

**Adsum!  
Chapter 134**

**by Llinos  
beta Marigold**

Legolas felt his body shudder. The landscape before him was streaked with mud and blood. That was wrong! Somehow his mind had wandered into a byway of the little consciousness he was exploring!

Gandalf? No, he had strayed beyond the wizard's thoughts and accidentally touched upon the recollections of the insignificant muddy blue light. Legolas felt his head roll from side to side as he thrashed about trying to make sense of the thoughts and fears of the strange creature he was listening to.

He felt Gandalf stir within the creature; the wizard was becoming more and more entrenched in the alien being's psyche. Legolas remembered that was why Gandalf refrained from speaking in his mind with the hobbits too often. A wizard's brain is not designed to function with such small beings and prolonged contact could be damaging to both.

Even now Legolas could sense the anxiety Gandalf felt at remaining for so long in the head of this very small and strange thing – Legolas was not too sure what it was – and he too was concerned for the wizard's sanity, but for some reason this was important!

The muddy blue mind was confused; Legolas could sense its odd moments of fright. Gandalf was controlling it, not all the time and not oppressively, but every so often, at need, the wizard would desperately urge it forward to do something, or if it failed, he would take over the small being and act in his own persona.

The elf smiled inwardly when occasionally he heard the peculiar creature argue back with the powerful brain that had taken up residence in its head. Legolas could not always understand what it was saying as its muddled little brain was not at all coherent, especially when it became frightened but, whatever it was, it certainly had a will of its own.

There were moments when Gandalf, having taken over the tiny being completely, was distracted. Then Legolas felt it close to panic. Tentatively he tried to help, speaking quietly to the strange mind. Gently, he tried to calm and reassure it.

The wounded elf was finding it difficult to keep his pain completely masked, but he could feel others trying to absorb and lessen the relentless hurt so that he could concentrate on helping Gandalf. "_Do not fear_," he soothed the frightened creature, "_we will protect you. You must be strong. Listen to the wizard, do not be afraid of him, he is not trying to hurt you."_

_"ploo glug?"_ the little blue mind enquired.

"_A friend,"_ Legolas told it. "_It is all right, trust me_."

_"ligg blug plip!"_

_"I am not sure what you mean, but I will help you all I can."_

0-0-0-0-0-0

Leave me alone! Stop it!" Frodo could feel someone or something pawing and tugging at him. "Don't touch me!"

"Fro! Pleasses! You got go open the eyeses!"

The speech sounded weird enough to be that wretch Gollum, but the voice was wrong and, although the words were strange, oddly familiar. The hand continued to tug at him, but now Frodo could hear a catch in the persistent, trilling voice. Whoever it was, was weeping. He forced his eyes to open. "Pippin! What's wrong? Don't cry Pip!"

"Fro! You scrarded we!" Pippin sniffed loudly and rubbed his hand across his face. "You go sleepering more long times long."

"Poor Pip," Frodo put his arm around his cousin. "But you're hurt! Your hands are covered in burns. How did you do that?"

"You handses is go burnded too Fro," Pippin stuttered. "And you nose was go blooding!"

"Oh!" Frodo glanced down at his own hands and saw the scorch marks. Then gingerly touched his nose and found that his fingers came away bloody.

"But isn't not worstest thing of we," Pippin looked fearfully around. "Eroo be goned, and we gone be nearly at fire place we think. Not knowed how we gotted be here, but can see big red smoking and it more than dark and… and… we ring is go all dirty." Pippin gulped as he held out the blackened ring for Frodo to see.

"Good gracious!" As Pippin held out his hand Frodo could see now that, as well as the horrific burns, his young cousin's finger and thumb were swollen to twice their normal size. "Poor Pip, that looks very painful." He took the broken hand in his and kissed it gently.

"It does be hurted," Pippin winced. "We can't not go wiggle thems, but Fro, what about we rings?"

"I don't know," Frodo looked down at the grimy ring in Pippin's hand. "I thought your friend, your Eroo had made It come back together. But it seems he has destroyed It as well? How could that be?"

"No Fro," Pippin, forgetting his injured hand, scrabbled on all fours to the other side of where Frodo sat and leaned over a small gully. "You, we still gotted two Rings!"

Frodo rolled over and saw about four feet below them in a wide ditch a gleaming band of gold.

"The Ring!" Frodo suddenly realised what had become of his precious, hateful burden. It had been in his hand when the mysterious Eroo had inexorably coaxed his and Pippin's Rings together and, while unconscious, he must have dropped It. Obviously all the power had left Pippin's ring when the two coalesced, leaving it blackened and base. Whilst the true Ring, his Ring, had regained Its supremacy.

"I get He!" Pippin dropped the blackened ring and began to edge over the side of the ditch.

"No!" Frodo's voice had a bark of authority. "Don't touch It!"

"Fro?" Pippin turned to his cousin, his face furrowed with question.

"You just keep watch," Frodo's voice softened. "It's best if only I hold It. I don't want you to be hurt any more by this Pippin."

Without waiting for any argument, Frodo scrambled into the gully. He paused. Everything inside him was repelled from the glittering band of evil that he hated, not least for the desire It kindled and flamed throughout his being. But then an ethereal voice seemed to whisper to him, bringing back a flood of recollection of the soft kindness he had sensed from Pippin's not so imaginary friend. "_You are strong Frodo. Take It. It must not harm Pippin again. Only you can do this task."_

Frodo was uncertain as to whether the voice was from something outside himself or of his own making, but nevertheless, he felt imbued with a new strength and scooped the Ring up. Then, realising the gold chain was still about his neck, quickly threaded his burden and slipped It over his head.

"Fro? We… I'se… L-let we Pips…" Pippin faltered, unable to vocalise the magpie feeling in the pit of his belly at seeing the dreadful, yet yearned for golden charm lying at his cousin's throat.

Frodo could not fail to recognise the rising fire in Pippin's eyes. He gulped and then took a breath, submerging the impulse to push the smaller hobbit away and flee from this dreadful place; to keep the precious Ring safe from all who would attempt to take It from him. He forced a vision of Sméagol turned Gollum into his mind, calming the urge and letting sanity return.

He ignored Pippin's unspoken question and took the younger hobbit's damaged hand carefully in his own, wincing at the swelling and the unnatural angle of thumb and finger. The weeping burns were covered with grime and filth and Frodo felt a flash of fear that disease might set in. "Your poor hand, Pip."

"It bad not everso too much, Fro," Pippin lied, not wanting his cousin to be burdened by yet another worry. "We not got go far now, make it bettrer after we gotted no more Rings."

"No, Pip. Let me at least bind it for you before we go on. There isn't much that I can do but I can at least do that."

Pippin submitted with thinly disguised relief. His finger was obviously broken and quite hideously painful.

Frodo examined and then rejected his own filthy clothing. "Let's see your shirt Pip, I think it's got to be cleaner than mine." He gently lifted the hauberk up and, turning Pippin round, pulled his rather too large shirt from his breeches. "Here's a good clean part on the tail you won't miss."

Frodo used his teeth and hands to rip several long strips of material. "It would be best if we had something to keep your finger straight, but I fear there's nothing here that would serve."

They both gazed around the barren landscape, but there were no trees, not even a small bush that might yield a twig or two.

"Have you got anything in your pockets?" Frodo knew Pippin was inclined to accumulate all kinds of odds and ends in his wanderings.

"Not got no stickeses, not got no stones neitherwise," Pippin reported sadly. Then his face lit up as his good hand strayed to a bulge in his shirt pocket. "Gotted we pipes!"

"Ah, that could work!" Frodo took the beloved treasure and struck it against a rock, snapping the clay bowl away from the stem. "Sorry to break your best pipe, but I'll get you another, the best in the Shire, if ever we get home."

"Not go got no weed make it go any is way," Pippin shrugged.

"All right," Frodo searched his memory for something to distract his cousin from what was about to happen. "Do you remember that funny song I sang that night in Bree?"

"Whats?" Pippin was taken aback by the sudden change of subject.

"That song, about the Man in the Moon – do you remember it?"

"Does go 'membering most it," Pippin winced as Frodo took hold of his damaged finger. "Most is 'membering you disserappearering! But got most of wordings, onerly they is gone go get higgle and piggle if we says them."

"Well try anyway," Frodo suggested. "See if you can sing it to me now." He took in Pippin's puzzled frown. "It will take our mind off things for a moment."

Baffled, but always willing to oblige, Pippin began, furrowing his brow, as he suspected the words emanating from his mouth, might not quite match those in his head.

"_There be an inn, where Merry go in  
Under grey hill is build  
Where makes a beer so brown and queer  
Man from Moon go come down here  
And drinks until he filled!  
_

_Ostler's at, go have a cat  
He got_.. aiiieeeee!"

As Pippin became more preoccupied with remembering the song, Frodo had clenched Pippin's hand in his and then pulled his finger out sharply, straightening it so that it would not set crooked.

As he pulled, Pippin had screamed with pain and slumped forward into his cousin's arms. Frodo carefully laid him down and swiftly bound the pipe stem to the injured finger as tightly as possible, without stemming the blood flow.

Frodo looked up at the lowering mountain and then back down at his unconscious cousin. He knew he should probably start the climb alone, but, was not only loath to do so, but also reluctant to leave poor Pippin to wake up injured and alone in such a desolate place.

Eventually he decided that, although it might be better to make the last part of the journey alone, he could not bring himself to desert his young cousin and so he sat on the edge of Mount Doom, cradling Pippin in his arms and waited.

-0-0-0-0-0-

**"OLÓRIN! I HAVE YOU!"**

**"**_**NOT IN THIS PLACE! YOUR FIGHT IS NOT HERE SAURON!"**_

**"THEN WHY ELSE ARE YOU HERE? YOU SEEK MY ONE RING! SUCH POWER IS NOT FOR A MERE MAIA! BUT YET YOU CHALLENGE ME FOR IT!"**

"I DO NOT CHALLENGE YOU! I OBSERVE – NOTHING MORE – SUCH IS MY TASK!"

**"BUT WHAT DO YOU OBSERVE? YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!"**

Gandalf did not want to leave his vantage place in Bloggin's mind, but he felt his cloaked thoughts inexorably being probed. It would be a matter of seconds before Sauron would discover their purpose and then all would be lost. His mere location in the mind of this tiny insignificant orc would soon point the way to Pippin or even Frodo and then…

{}{}{}{}{}{}

…Gandalf gasped a cry and sat bolt upright.

"Whoa!" Faramir gave a sharp yelp of surprise. "Gandalf! What happened?"

"Steady now, just relax," Dysgwr put a restraining hand on the wizard's shoulder, urging him to lie back down.

"Confound it all!" Gandalf pushed the healer's hand away and looked wildly around. He took in Dysgwr's baffled face, Faramir, who was now proffering a mug of water, and beyond them, Éowyn and Gimli who were seated either side of Legolas, who was prone on a pallet.

He shook his head and took the mug, with a muttered 'thank you', and swallowed half the contents. "Legolas?" He looked from Faramir to Dysgwr. "Is he conscious?"

"Err, not as such Mithrandir," Faramir was not sure how to explain the complex communications they had been having with the elf. "Éowyn and Gimli have been… um watching his thoughts."

"Just watching?" Gandalf was on his feet and strode over to where the Lady and the dwarf were keeping their vigil. "You haven't tried to speak with his mind?"

"No," Éowyn confirmed. "We thought it best not to do so. We were just hearing snippets, ideas really. Nothing coherent – mostly Legolas listening to you talking to something blue and muddy."

"Ah!" Gandalf's worried frown lessened. "That is good. Do you hear anything now?"

"There was a jolt!" Gimli was overjoyed to see the wizard awake again, but could tell he did not have time for niceties. "We were both worried. We felt Legolas's mind go pale, as if he were pulling a curtain around his thoughts."

"And the muddy blue?" Gandalf asked urgently. "Was that behind the curtain with him?"

"I'm not sure," Éowyn touched Legolas's brow lightly. "Do you want us to see if we can find it?"

"Wait!" Gandalf caught Éowyn's hand to stop her reaching out to the elf again. "Let me explain. You must be very careful. I was following the hobbits and trying to steer them in the right direction, helping when I could, but Sauron found a path to me, that was why I came back so abruptly."

"It was that little orc!" Éowyn knew there had been something vaguely familiar about the small blue entity. "I thought I recognised the scent."

"Yes, Bloggin," Gandalf had started to become quite attached to the odd creature, to the point of even getting his name right. "I hid in his mind when we were attacked and then I found it was quite a useful vantage point to observe the progress of the hobbits. But I dare not go back there now, for Sauron will attack me and probably kill the creature in the process. More to the point, He will undoubtedly find the whereabouts of the Ring and our plan to destroy It."

"So He has not yet guessed the purpose of the hobbits' journey into Mordor?" Aragorn, entering the tent, had been following the discussion intently.

"I think not," Gandalf turned to the Ranger. "He still believes that we seek the Ring to wield It. We cannot delay further. The time of the truce must be met. How long is left?"

"Two hours remain," Aragorn said, "but we are ready."

"Good!" Gandalf leaned over to look intently down at Legolas's face. The elf seemed reasonably peaceful. "There is a chance that Legolas is still watching the orc, Bloggin."

"Oh… ohh!" Éowyn put her hands up to her head as if in pain. Faramir and Gimli bumped heads as they each reached out to comfort the Lady. She ignored them both and looked urgently to Gandalf. "Legolas is listening to us. His thoughts leapt insistently into my mind."

"What?" Gandalf took both her hands in his and looked searchingly into her eyes. "Does he have the little orc? Can he see the hobbits?"

"Y-yes…" Éowyn stuttered uncharacteristically. "Legolas is in Bloggin's mind, but…"

"What?" Gandalf resisted the urge to shake her. "Tell me, please, what is happening?"

"He has spoken to the orc, and it has responded." Éowyn concentrated as she tried to glean more information from the encounter. "But cannot see through the orc's eyes and he can't always understand its language."

"Alas yes," Gandalf released Éowyn's wrists. "It does have a very odd way of communicating. If you thought the hobbits' mind speech was difficult, it is nothing compared with the gobbledygook issuing from an orc's brain."

"But you understood it?" Faramir had always known Mithrandir had a supernatural property about him but was only now beginning to realise the extent.

"Indeed," Gandalf let a brief smile play about his eyes. "But I dare not go there again. Sauron would find the little creature and crush it with a single thought."

"Oh, I see." One thing still baffled Faramir though. He leant down and whispered to Éowyn, who was once again keeping watch over Legolas. "How do you see a smell?"

"You do not," Éowyn's serious countenance did not falter. "You hear it."

-TBC-

(really!)


	43. In Loco Parentis

**In Loco Parentis  
**Chapter 135

**by Llinos  
****beta Marigold**

Bloggin was a small and unimpressive orc. He had never attracted much attention in his little life, except perhaps from his twin brother Sniggin, who had always been there for as long as Bloggin could remember. When the Great Lord Wizard had commandeered Bloggin to pose as the hobbit prince, neither orc had thought it worth mentioning, that they had never actually been apart before. It did not occur to either that this would even have been taken into consideration. Why would it? They were small slave orcs, _snaga_, and of no consequence.

Their master had made it clear from their earliest memory they were to do as they were told, carefully explained with a cuff round the ear or a well placed boot. Exceptionally good behaviour might even bring a little extra worm and beetle stew! Sniggin and Bloggin had learned never to question and certainly never to defy – anyone! Except once.

"Gerrup yer maggot!" The overseer orc prodded Bloggin with his foot but, in spite of his insistence, the half grown orc lay like a heap of soiled rags on the foundry tiles. "Come 'ere you!" The overseer grabbed Sniggin, who was next in line, and pressed the red hot branding iron into the quivering little orc's chest.

Sniggin wailed as he was dunked into a barrel of cold water, but the cooling liquid was effective and the pain subsided quickly as he was set down again. The overseer orc kicked at Bloggin again. "Tek thisun away and chuck it in the pit. Slipped a bit wiv me iron an' got it right in the throat. Don't reckon it'll last, might as well bin it now, afore the boss sees it."

Sniggin, recovering his senses, realised his brother was not moving and that he was being ordered to unceremoniously throw the mutilated body into the charnel ditch to hide the evidence of the overseer's mistake.

"Yers boss, right away boss." Sniggin gathered up Bloggin's dead weight as best he could and hauled it over his shoulder.

Knowing that the overseer would watch to make sure he did as told, Sniggin lugged the body to the trench, which was already half filled with rotting corpses, covered with flies and maggots, and tipped his brother's still living carcase into the makeshift grave.

Sniggin then mingled with the other newly branded orcs, but lingered near the rear of the huddle as they trudged back towards their overcrowded sleeping pens. Every so often he looked surreptitiously behind him, until he saw that the overseer was once again preoccupied with searing their pod brand into the skin of yet unmarked immature orcs.

He drew a breath and held it. Then, as silently as possible, tore back to the trench and hurled himself into the morass of stinking, foetid corpses. Keeping low, Sniggin scrambled on elbows and knees over the squelching remains until he located his brother.

Bloggin was still breathing.

"Blog… Blog?" Sniggin, his voice barely a whisper, wrapped his arms around the lifeless form, leaning the hot, tortured little body into his own. "Youse dursnt got to die! Durnt leaves me Blog! I urnt got nuffink to stay lives for meself 'n yer snuffs it."

There was no response. Sniggin had no idea what to do to help his brother, orcs generally did not heal or tend to each other. If one was injured they either lived or died. But something had touched Sniggin when he saw his littermate brutalised and thrown away like a dead rat. He had no idea what it was, just an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that had leapt up into his throat like a cancerous lump. His brother was as good as dead. There was nothing he could do. But some strange feeling inside just would not let him leave the limp, broken body.

He had heard tales. Small slave orcs were always full of gossip and half heard anecdotes; there was little else to entertain their wretched lives. The older world weary orcs would tell stories of strange fanciful creatures called _Helves_ that were white skinned and had golden strands of wheat growing out of their heads. Apparently they made excellent eating!

But it was also said these creatures had a magickal and powerful overseer, that lived in the sky, who they would call on to help them in times of need! Sniggin had even remembered His name. It was _**Eroo**_.

Of course the great Lord Eroo would not want to help a wretched, filthy little orc like him or Bloggin, but he could think of nothing else. Trembling, he gazed up at the smoke blackened roof of the foundry, in the general direction of where the sky might be and whispered a gruff, sibilant prayer. "'Scuses I, Great Lord Eroo, but if Youse got time, could Youse keep me bruvver going. Dunt means to bovver Yer nor nuffink, but I'd be right grateful 'n all if'n Yer could."

Sniggin waited. But there was no bolt of lightning that shot the fire of life into his brother. He had not really expected one, but it was worth a try. Instead a small shiver ran through his body and, without knowing why, he bent his head and began to lick gently at the wound on Bloggin's neck.

For two days and nights Sniggin cradled Bloggin in the pit, feeding off the flies and masticating the occasional juicy maggot, before pushing the resulting pulp into his brother's mouth. When bosses or overseers came near he would hide them both beneath the putrid remains in the trench and constantly he licked the blood and pus from the suppurating wound that threatened to take his brother's life.

When Bloggin finally woke, Sniggin had urged him to crawl up out of the death pit. "Come on Blog, yer gonna be all right. Yer jest hangs on ter me an' we'll make it back."

"But Snig," Bloggin had a vague recollection of the overseer pronouncing him deceased. "Ern't I s'posed ter be dead an' all? We's gonna get in big trubble if'n I ain't!"

"Dun't care nohow!" Sniggin was not about to give up now. "Jest tells 'em yer got going on yer own, they won't care."

"Why'd yer come back fer me Snig?" Bloggin had always stuck close to his brother, more from habit than conscious thought, but such behaviour as this from an orc was unprecedented.

"I dun't know," Sniggin grunted. "It jest hurt, bad as bad can be. Worse'n the whip, worse'n the hot iron. Yer jest stays close ter me an' I ain't gonna let nuffink happen ter yer ifn' I can helps it."

And together they had stolen back to their pen and stayed side by side ever since.

As the two huge and terrifying voices skirmished inside his head, Bloggin was briefly left to his own devices. The Great Wizard had let go of his bow as he turned to battle with the shocking black cloud of thought that had penetrated Bloggin's head.

One moment Bloggin had been standing proudly upon a high rock, crossbow balanced perfectly in his small grubby mitts. Then, as the reverberation of the Wizard's control still echoed through his being, he saw the most horrifying sight of his poor tortured little life, even for an orc!

The monstrosity that bore down on the Wizard Lord was choking thick and murk grey. The great maw of it gaped open, promising in seconds to devour his tiny being as if he were a deep fried spider or some other delicacy. What terrified Bloggin the most was the certainty of nothingness that lay inside his death. He had once asked Sniggin, "What does dead feel like? Does it hurt much?"

Sniggin had thought for a moment. "I dunno, but does you remembers what it was like before you was?"

"No," Bloggin had shaken his head.

"Well," Sniggin had explained. "It's like that."

Now that memory came deluging back. The Monstrosity confirmed it with a stomach-churning screech that made his black blood feel sick. His existence would become a sludge-grey emptiness, devoid of senses or thought. Already nothing, he would become less than nothing. He fell to the ground clutching his ears against the horror.

But then a tiny spark of azure brilliance touched his head lightly and commanded, _**"Be Safe!"**_

Suddenly the tumultuous presences were gone from his mind. The Great Wizard, The Monstrosity, everything! All that remained was the incredulous certainty that some vast and important Being had intervened on his behalf.

And, incredibly for a little orc, although he did not know it, not for the first time either!

-0-0-0-0-0-

"It may be difficult and dangerous, but we need to find a way back into the mind of my erstwhile host." Gandalf considered for a moment. Not Éowyn? She needed to remain in contact with Legolas.

Aragorn? He would naturally have more important business to deal with. The truce was almost at an end and he would need to rally and lead the army once more.

Faramir? Gandalf snorted at the lad's mooneyes that strayed whenever they could to the preoccupied shield maiden. Gandalf wished, not altogether unkindly, that he would just declare his undying love and get it over with – then they could get on with the business in hand.

Gimli then. He was not the most subtle when it came to dealing with orcs, but Gandalf knew that diplomacy could sometimes be a positive handicap when dealing with the crude creatures. Nevertheless a little tactful coercion might not go amiss. The dwarf was a good balance. Not overly rude, but not easy to intimidate and not given to being daunted by his ancient, historic foes.

"Gimli, my friend." Gandalf turned to the dwarf with a smile. "Would you see if you could find that small orc that was with the other? I forget his name, but he looked quite similar to Bloggin. I think he had a ladle and was certainly painted blue. Ask that sergeant, the one that was with Pippin's Uruk."

"Well, I'll go and bring him here Gandalf," Gimli clambered to his feet, his bones cracking loudly as he stood. "But I hope you're not planning to invite him into _**my**_ mind! An elf is one thing, but an orc!"

"Master Dwarf," Gandalf growled, his eyebrows furrowing together. "We all have to make sacrifices to win this battle. The privacy of your head is the least of my concerns."

-0-0-0-0-0-

"Whiskey and porter,  
Taste better than they ought'er,  
Washed down with tales of blood and slaughter,  
But there's nowt so fine,  
Not ale nor wine,  
As a night in bed with a trollop's daughter!

There's nuffink to lose,  
When yer gets to choose,  
Meaty bones that squelch and ooze,  
But no mind how fresh  
I'd trade man-flesh,  
For a buxom wench and a bucket of booze!"

"Er, 'scuse I Sarge," Sniggin poked his head around the corner of the tent flap. "I dursent means to intrupt yerself."

"Wassat?" Grutfley, startled at the unaccustomed use of his self-appointed title, almost dropped the bottle of whiskey. With practised guilt, he slid the half empty flagon out of sight beneath his chair, but managed in the process to upset his precariously balanced feet from the small table and fell to the floor in a tangled, drunken heap.

"If'n yer pleases Master Sir," Sniggin had obviously turned to speak to someone outside the tent. "He's jus' finishin' up his erm… dinner." The little orc inspected Grutfley once more and, as he was now at least in a sitting position, albeit on the ground with the chair on top of him, lifted up the tent flap to allow Gimli entrance.

"Hrrummph!" Gimli coughed impatiently as Sniggin scurried to right the chair and heave Grutfley to his feet. "I trust I am not disturbing your repast."

"Yer not," Grutfley snorted as he slumped back into the chair. "Jus' taking a little liquid refreshment ta keeps me ticking over as it were."

"Hmm," Gimli sniffed the air. "So I can smell! Was that a traditional after-dinner orc song I heard?"

"Well yer knows how it is," Grutfley attempted to wink at the dwarf but ended up blearily squinting instead. "Got ta keep yer spirits up!"

"Or down," Gimli deftly retrieved the flagon of whiskey, revealed by the orc's accident with the chair. "Hmm!" He examined the label. "_Rohirric Old Splendid_ _- The Finest Distillation_." He glared at the drunken orc, "Where'd you come by this?"

"If'n yer pleases Sir," Sniggin, having stolen it from Ŭnomer, decided to risk interrupting. "I found it… someone must've dropped it!"

"Why you thieving little blighter!" Gimli aimed a cuff at Sniggin, catching him neatly behind the ear. "You pinched it, didn't you? No Man would lose grog of this quality!"

"Aiech!" Sniggin squeaked, not so much because the blow hurt, but because he knew it was expected. "I dun't Sir yer Honour! Honest I dun't!"

"Here!" Grutfley was not above administering the odd cuff himself, but this "guest" was overstepping his authority. "If'n my soldier says he found it, then he did! You Men are all the same, with yer drumhead justice!"

"Men!" Gimli quivered with indignation. "Mind your tongue! I am no Man! I…" and he drew himself up to his full four foot seven and a half inches. "…am a Dwarf!"

"A dwarf eh?" Grutfley had heard tales of the long wars fought between his species and Durin's Folk, but had never actually encountered a member of that race before. "Your lot think you're tough as old boots – or so I heard. Don't look like much ter me!"

"I'll have you know," Gimli did not take kindly to insults about his race, especially from orcs. "We Dwarves are as hard as the living rock! And at least we are not some foul species bred out of evil by a dark and twisted mind!"

"Oh yeah!" Grutfley, extremely flagon-valiant after half a bottle of best whiskey, staggered to his feet. "And I heard your race was one great balls-up! A fugging mistake!"

"Why you… Raarrrrgggh!" Gimli's ever-present axe was hefted above his head as he rushed at the unguarded orc.

Sniggin, mortified at having been the cause of the argument and ever loyal to his Sergeant, flung himself to the ground in front of Grutfley. The enraged dwarf, unable to halt his momentum, tripped over the little orc and soared into the air. The axe flew from his hands, and embedded itself, less than harmlessly, in the ground outside, having first sliced through the main guy rope.

Gimli himself fared little better. His incensed impetus catapulted him right over both orcs to collide with the central tent pole, unceremoniously bringing the Sergeant's erstwhile quarters enveloping down upon orc and dwarf alike.

Sniggin quickly scrambled out from under the canvas, and scurried off to find his brother's trusty ladle for protection in the event of possible reprisals, while Gimli and Grutfley were left flailing about beneath the collapsed remains of poles, ropes and hessian.

By the time Sniggin, now properly armed, returned to the scene of the disaster the orc and dwarf, puffing, panting and cursing in their respective languages, were struggling out from the ruined tent.

"T'wasn't my fault Sarge! Honest!" Sniggin knew Grutfley was his best chance of a champion in the current situation. "I wuz jest tryin' to protect yerself!"

"You wretched little scoundrel!" Gimli staggered to his feet, his helm precariously balanced over one eye and his beard tangled with straw and grass. He grabbed hold of Sniggin by the scruff, just as Grutfley caught hold of the struggling orc's arm.

"'Ere! You let him be!" Grutfley tried desperately to prise the little fellow away from the enraged dwarf, knowing that Smagnu would be extremely pissed off if he failed at least to keep this one safe.

A small but appreciative crowd had gathered. The Riders of Rohan were trying not to laugh too obviously, as they debated whether to intervene. The Gondorian Guards, who were actually charged with the orcs' good behaviour, decided this was a personal dispute and were willing to see the outcome before arbitrating. In the meantime one of the bolder and more entrepreneurial orcs started to run a book.

As Gimli and Grutfley continued their tug-of-war, with Sniggin as the rope, the crowd suddenly parted to reveal Gandalf.

The Wizard surveyed the scene with a baffled air, before identifying the source of the dispute. "Ah! Yes," he had spotted the ladle still in Sniggin's resolute paw. "That's the one!"

Gimli and Grutfley paused to look at Gandalf in bewilderment.

"Gimli, my dear dwarf," Gandalf shook his head in despair. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you could have just asked him to come."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin stirred slowly, muttering under his breath "Loon moons goes merry tunes, fiddle-de-dums, is nearly soons…"

"Pippin! Pip, wake up dearest," Frodo lifted the sleep-addled hobbit to sit up. "I'm sorry I pulled you finger straight without warning but I didn't want you to tense up."

"Why did Fro?" Pippin struggled to sit up further and blearily inspected his now bandaged finger. "When we was go campering you were so mumble-grumble and Pip not puttering tents ups!"

Frodo frowned. He was not sure if Pippin was teasing him or if he was delirious with trauma. He decided it would be for the best to work with the latter. "Poor Pip, you're as white as a sheet. Can you feel anything in your finger?"

"Feel like it go be no fingers now," Pippin managed a crooked smile. "But we Pips onerly as hurted as we Fro." Shakily he managed to clamber to his feet. "We still got go climb up to fire place."

Frodo pushed himself up to stand beside Pippin and, as one, the hobbits looked up at the precipitous climb ahead. "You'd better wait here," Frodo was not sure how he was going to manage, but he felt certain it was no journey for his injured cousin. "I'll go up as best I can, then come back for you."

Pippin watched critically as Frodo took a few staggering steps. "We don't not thinks you Fro gone go nowheres on yourselfs!" He tottered after him and slipped his slight frame under Frodo's arm, bolstering him up. "We got go helps you and netherwise you not got go falling downs!"

"All right then Pippin." If he were honest, Frodo did feel ready to drop and he would be glad of the company anyway. "We'll go together. Come on, best foot forward!"

"You always sayering that!" Pippin smiled remembering Frodo's encouragement to him when he was small and complaining about long walks. "But you never sayed me which one of we foots is the bestest! We likes both we feets!"

TBC

**Author note:**

Thank you MtH, Poppy and TX for reviewing and everyone else, thanks for reading – so good to know you're still out there after all this time!


	44. Lugghâsh

**Lugghâsh  
**Chapter 136

**by Llinos  
****beta Marigold**

With Vimta Ludd lying dead, Tyza Groon and Irne Brewe, made a unanimous, tacit decision. Flight, they decided, was their best option. Of course it was possible that their Master would hunt them down and inflict a long, slow and painful termination on them, but on the other hand, they were both cowards at heart and not very intelligent.

Majdi Rann watched their retreat with satisfaction. "Good opponents," he remarked to Smagnu. "Stupid, disloyal cowards, that's the best kind of adversary."

But Smagnu barely registered the man's comments. He was hunched over Bloggin, tapping the orc's face and tweaking his nose, trying to find some sign of life.

"Is he all right?" Merry took Bloggin's limp hand and rubbed it gently. He was rewarded with a slight twitch.

"What do you suppose happened to him?" Sam was not sure he really wanted to know. The answer was bound to be confusing and incomprehensible, like everything else that had happened today.

"He's alive at least…" Merry was bending over Bloggin with his face close to the orc's leathery skin, listening for breathing. "Yowwoch!" The hobbit fell backwards and sat down abruptly on his bottom, clutching his nose with both hands. Bloggin had suddenly jerked awake and, in fear of the proximity of a strange face, had head-butted the intrusion with a violence born out of terror.

"Merry! Mr Merry, Sir," Sam, seeing the blood seeping through Merry's fingers, dropped the rope securing Gollum and sank down by the hobbit's side. "Let me see it, is your nose broke? Are you all right?"

"Hey, steady on, Blog," Smagnu grabbed the little orc by the shoulders. "New Little Pip is a friend. No need for that!"

"Wh-what?" Bloggin shook his head and looked around. "What happened?"

"You tell me!" Smagnu was completely baffled by the orc's behaviour. He had not really thought too much before about why he was acting so strangely. "You did some snazzy shooting with my crossbow. Took out the boss man and the rest just scarpered. Then you started caterwauling like your head was coming off and then splatted out like a sack o' spuds! Came around and nutted New Little Pip on the conk!"

"I'se sorry Cap'n," Bloggin was not used to being the subject of so much attention and peered nervously over at Merry. "I'se sorry Mr New Pip, Sir! Me head was having a right brawl wiv itself an' it scardified me proper bad!"

"Your head wab habing a brawl with by dose!" Merry muttered through the scrap of rag Sam was holding against his bleeding nose.

"Let me see proper now, Mr Merry," Sam pulled the rag away and gently prodded the injury. "I don't think it's broken, but… Oi! You brute, come back here!"

Gollum had grabbed his opportunity while Sam was preoccupied with Merry to make a bid for freedom. He had managed to pull the hated elven rope off his neck and was galloping on all fours towards Mount Doom, mumbling as he ran. "Silly hobbitses! Stupid orcses! Sitting and playing with bows and arrows while the Precious gets more and more lost! But Sméagol not so stupid! Sméagol knows where Masster iss taking our Precious!"

"Drat and botheration!" Sam was used to curbing his profanities in polite company. Although whether a renegade Man, an Uruk-hai and a small head-butting orc qualified as polite company, he was not too sure. "We've got to get after him! If he catches up with Mr Frodo…"

"But we don't know where Frodo id… is!" Merry's throbbing nose was giving him trouble with speaking. "Or Pippin for dat matter!"

"I think we can make a good guess at any rate," Sam pointed towards Mount Doom, smoking in the distance. "Where we were headed for in the first place."

"Well we'd beth… besst make a dart…a sstart!" Merry took Sam's hand to help him stand. "Whooaa!"

"Perhaps you oughta just stay here," Sam appraised Merry's unsteady condition. It was obvious that he had been through a terrible ordeal. "You're as white as the Widow Rumble's wash, excepting for the blood and bruises."

"Uh uh," Merry shook his head, causing him to wobble again. "You're dot going wibout me! Bedides, I'll dot be any bedder here dan dere!"

"Beg pardon?" Sam squinted at Merry as if that would make him hear better.

"He's saying that he might as well come as stay behind," Majdi Rann interpreted. "In fact, we might as well all go." He looked at Smagnu and shrugged. "There's nothing to be done here and I don't want to go back through the orc armies."

"Yeah," the Uruk agreed. "We got four horses now – with the Wizard's horse, the little Pips can ride that. We'll bring that other along as a spare." He nodded at the animal Vimta Ludd had been riding.

"Is that magnificent creature Gandalf's horse?" Sam had not met Shadowfax before. "I don't think Merry and I could ride on him – especially without a saddle or anything. I mean that rug he's wearing is all very grand, but still…"

"Don't you worry none," Smagnu peremptorily lifted Sam up onto the stallion's willing back. "Little Pip magicked this 'ere horse. My little Pip must be the most powerful wizard I ever met – for his size and all!"

"What?" Sam looked at the Uruk dumbfounded. "Pippin? Peregrin Took – a wizard?"

Merry shook his head and managed to smile at the bewildered gardener. "Just don't ask Sam, it's better dat way."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Every step was agony. Although the monotonous grey landscape had been replaced by treacherous red shingle, it was hardly a change for the better.

"Keep goes on Fro, we nearerlier is there!" Pippin hoped the lie would help. He had always been good at optimism even if it did mean meandering a little too far from the truth.

"Yes Pip," Frodo managed a wan smile. "Then we'll be rid of this burden and saunter back down to meet Merry and Sam and we'll all go home for tea."

"With icings cakes!" Pippin added confidently.

"Oh, Pip!" Frodo sank down once more. His body was drained and his spirit sapped deeper and deeper into despair as the more they laboured the further away the summit seemed to be. "What was I thinking? I'll never make it, it's too far and I am bone weary and sick to the pit of my stomach.

Pippin looked up at the sheer pinnacle that loomed menacingly above them like a sinister black sepulchre. The dark foreboding clouds brushed its topmost peak so that it was impossible to see the very summit.

But weighing even darker upon Pippin's heart was Frodo's pain and distress. Even his usual relentless optimism was hard to maintain in this desperate situation. A storm was louring in the east and silver-blue streaks of lightning cracked ominously across the murk filled skies. Frodo had always been Pippin's rock; the elder and wiser cousin to seek out when neither parent, teacher or even Merry could offer sound guidance. Admittedly, Pippin did not always follow Frodo's advice, but he inevitably regretted it and to see his shrewd and always perceptive mentor in such anguish frightened Pippin to the core.

The place they had been transported to was a grey slope on the northern side of Orodruin. Dimly below them they had seen the great plain of Gorgoroth, wreathed though it was in shadow and swirling mist. They had been climbing for several hours now and it seemed impossible they could ever scale the vast cone-like chimney of the volcano.

Pippin stood up on his tiptoes, wincing at the pain in his foot. He shielded his eyes and squinted up into the distance, hoping for an easier route at least. He almost shouted with excitement when he saw the road. It climbed like a rising girdle from the west and wound snakelike about the mountain, until, before it went round out of view, it reached the foot of the cone upon its eastern side.

Pippin could not know it, but he was looking at Sauron's Road from Barad-dûr to the Sammath Naur, the Chambers of Fire. Out from the Dark Tower's huge western gate it came over a deep abyss by a vast bridge of iron, and then passing into the plain it ran for a league between two smoking chasms and so reached a long sloping causeway that led up on to the mountain's eastern side. Thence, turning and encircling all its wide girth from south to north it climbed at last, high in the upper cone, but still far from the reeking summit, to a dark entrance that gazed back east straight to the Window of the Eye in Sauron's shadow-mantled fortress. Often blocked or destroyed by the tumults of the mountain's furnaces, always that road was repaired and cleared again by the labours of countless orcs.

"Fro! Fro!" He shook his cousin's shoulder urgently. "We can go do it, there is be a go up pathingsway!"

"A what Pip?" Frodo blinked his tired eyes open and rubbed them, as if that might help him understand his cousin's strange words.

"A pathings, a walking-on!" Pippin searched his muddled mind in frustration for the right words. In desperation he began to try and sing Bilbo's walking song.

_"It going evers on and on  
Downing doors and off they ran  
Now far aways it be gone  
We must follows and we can!"_

Frodo furrowed his brow at his confused cousin, his head on one side in query. "_Downing doors? It going ever on?"_ He took a breath and shut his eyes running the correct words through his head. "Oh a road! You mean a road?"

"What I sayed!" Pippin often could not hear anything wrong with the way he spoke, the only indication to him that something was wrong was the baffled reaction of others. "We just got go littlel more way ups."

"I'm not sure I can walk any further Pip," Frodo toyed with the chain around his neck. He looked longingly back down the slope. "Perhaps we should wait to see if the others find us."

"It be all rightings Fro," Pippin had a flash of clarity. "Give We the Ring. We can takes It. We did carryings whole halves of He before, so can carrying He up to fire place now!"

"No!" The threat suddenly infused new vigour into Frodo. "I'll do it, even if I have to crawl on my hands and knees."

Pippin felt an abrupt rush of anger. Why was Frodo being so stubborn? It was almost as if he did not want the precious Ring destroyed! _Precious_? From where had that thought come? He drew a deep breath of sulphur-laden air and slowly unclenched his fists. He had not even been aware of balling them up in the first place. It was only when his splinted finger had protested at the action that he realised what he had done. "W-we… that is my Pip… um… _**I'm**_…" He bit his tongue with the effort of finding the word. "_**I**_… me is sorry to you Fro."

"Perhaps you had better wait here Pip?" The vehemence in his cousin's stance had not gone unnoticed. "I think I can manage… I feel better for that little rest."

"No!" Pippin made a desperate effort to calm his voice. "No, we… I is all right now. We'll go togetherer."

Frodo was too weary to argue further. Side by side they began to crawl up the grey rock, slipping every so often as their injured and trembling hands missed their hold on the unyielding surface. After another hour or so of labour they finally dragged themselves up onto the broad track. The wide path was paved with broken rubble and trodden ash, almost certainly made by whipped and cowed orcs. It was hardly like the leafy lanes of the Shire, paths made by the countless comings and goings of peace-loving hobbits, but it would serve.

As they climbed to their feet there was a rapid flash of red light from the east. Both hobbits gasped in horror as they turned and saw the great pinnacle of Barad-dûr's topmost tower piercing through the black clouds. Once more the crimson flame stabbed through the darkness and they saw the flicker of a vast, malevolent eye. But it was not turned to them; it was gazing north to where the Captains of the West stood at bay.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"I'll explain it again!" Gandalf had instructed many different peoples and beings in his protracted existence but never before, as far as he could recall, had he needed to elucidate to an insignificant _snaga_ that he needed him to listen to an Elven mind and translate the Orcish words into Westron.

"This is an Elf." Sniggin looked with nervous awe at the recumbent being as Gandalf went through the details once more. "His name is Legolas."

"And he can see straight into me 'ead?" Sniggin was as anxious as a lowly hovel-dweller who had been told the King was coming to tea – terrified of the disgusting muck this beautiful creature might find in his dustbin of a skull.

"Only with mutual consent. It is…"

"Wiv wot?"

"Only if you let him." Gandalf was trying to keep things simple but was running out of time, patience and plain words. "And I want you to let him, because he is talking to your brother Bloggin."

"In 'is 'ead?" Sniggin glanced nervously at Grutfley, who had proprietarily accompanied his charge on the off chance there might be something in it for him and also out of morbid curiosity in what these grand people wanted with a scraggy little orc like Sniggin.

"Jest do what the Meister tells yer!" Grutfley was not imbued with the Wizard's diplomacy in such matters. "Or I'll clip yer one!"

"Ahem, yes." Gandalf would not have offered such violence or compulsion himself, but time was short. "Just take Legolas's hand in yours and try to clear your mind."

Sniggin looked anxiously at Grutfley again, who nodded insistently. He inspected his own grubby paw and wiped it perfunctorily on his equally grubby tunic and cautiously placed it in the elf's slender hand.

Legolas turned his head towards the orc, but nothing else happened.

"I durn't feels nuffink!" Sniggin sounded slightly ashamed but also relieved.

"Wait!" Éowyn bent to take the elf's other hand. "He has to be properly introduced to you." She reached out, took the orc's other grimy paw in hers and closed her eyes.

Gandalf caught Faramir's shoulder as the man instinctively lunged forward to disengage the physical contact of maid and orc. Éowyn was oblivious to his actions, but Sniggin had seen the angry look of the man and almost bolted.

"It's all right," Gandalf reassured him. "My young friend here will soon understand the importance of what you are about."

Sniggin was certain he had no idea what any of it was about but decided he was more afraid of the great Wizard and his Sarge than the irate man, although it was a close-run choice.

Éowyn searched quietly until she felt the gentle thrum of Legolas's consciousness. Then, using the conduit of the elf's mind, managed to touch the edge of the strange little being's thoughts. Although she was tempted to recoil from the muddy quagmire she sensed, she steeled herself to make the bridge.

"_Legolas?"_

"_Éowyn?"_

"_It is Sniggin the hand of whom you feel."_

"_gloop_!"

_"Hello little creature. You are the same as the other one."_

_"He comes to give meaning to its words Legolas. I can stay not long here unto you, but please question the other one and discover all he sees."_

_"Farewell dear Éowyn and thank you for this help."_

Éowyn gently squeezed the elf's hand, then withdrew both physically and mentally.

"_You are Sniggin?"_

_"blup plupp!"_

_"There is no need to quake little creature."_

_"glip plig plig!"_

"I hear your mind but I do not comprehend your words."

"_glop blug blog?"_

Sniggin felt a thrill of silver-blue laughter and knew that his question had been understood.

_"Wait here with me and I will find your brother. I believe you two will have much to talk about!"_

-0-0-0-0-0-

Bloggin did not believe in faeries and, even if he did, he would not contemplate that they would be bothered with the likes of him or Sniggin. He had heard tales of them, naturally. It was a little known fact amongst the highborn races that Orc-kind were steeped in myth and legend and many of them had a deep respect, tempered with fearful dread, of Magick.

Bloggin and his kind had often trembled at stories of fiery dragons, giant blood sucking spiders, screeching banshees, orc-devouring Elvies or _albai_ who would rip small _snaga_ to shreds and roast them on spits. Both Bloggin and Sniggin had been impressed at what awesomely sophisticated enemies Elvies must be, that they would cook them first!

Of course, Bloggin had never to his knowledge actually seen an Elvie or, what his Uruk bosses often referred to as, "dem fugging Helfs!" But he had heard that, although quite a delicacy, they were hideously ugly. Ten feet high they stood with gangling, skinny limbs, hideous trailing white hair growth, just from their heads, and long spider-like fingers designed to pick a poor orc to the bone.

So the surprise and joy at suddenly hearing his brother's voice in his head was tempered with terror and loathing when he learned that their interlocutor was, in fact, an Helf!

"Wassa matter with you Bloggin?" Smagnu found that the little orc wriggled around on the pillion far more than the halflings had ever done. "Keep still or yer going to have us both off!"

"Is'e got an Helf thing in me 'ead now Cap'n!" Bloggin confessed. "An' I'se more scardified of it than the Great Wizzard. I dursent know how to get it out."

"Don't know what yer talking about," Smagnu snorted. "But keep yer arse still!"

_"glip ploog blog!"_

_"Listen to your brother, little orc. I only want to help. Sniggin is holding my hand and he is not afraid."_

"_bleek?"_

_"bleek ug helf pelf"_

"Do you hear anything yet?"

Sniggin's eyes were squeezed tightly shut but he recognised the Wizard's voice. He shook his head trying to clear it for a moment. This would be a tricky situation for most, let alone a confused orc. "Yerssir! Me brother was scarded of the Helf – er I means Elf, but I told him it was all right and now the Elf, er… Mr Legolas Sir, is asking about what's going on."

There was a beat… a pulse… no one moved. The silence in the tent grew thick with tension. The background cacophony from the camp began to permeate where before it had gone unnoticed.

"He's riding on an 'orse wiv the Cap'n." Sniggin muttered at last. "He says Mr New Little Pip and… and Mr Sandwich?" The orc paused and opened his eyes to look enquiringly at Gandalf.

"Merry and Sam," Gandalf decided.

"Hmm… Well theys is riding on the Wizard's err… I means yer 'Onour's magick horse."

"Where are they going?" Gandalf asked sharply, although he was not certain he would know what best to do with the answer.

"They… they are looking for others… for other little Pips…" Sniggin frowned with the effort of translation. "…going to _Lugob-ghaash_…"

"_Lugghâsh_ – Tower of fire," Gandalf translated the Black Speech. "Mount Doom!" He turned abruptly to Faramir. "We must act without delay. Seek out Aragorn at once. Tell him to muster the men; they must prepare to fight the second the truce is ended. The board is set. The pieces are moving."

TBC

**Author's Notes:** Readers may notice that much of the description of Mount Doom is "borrowed" from the Professor, there are some things no one should try to improve upon!

Thanks to Marigold, Fantasy Fan and GW for the reviews! It's so good to get some feedback – at least then I know some people are enjoying it as well as just reading.


	45. The Pieces Are Moving

**The Pieces Are Moving  
****Chapter 137**

**by Llinos  
beta Marigold**

"This is as far as we can take the horses." Majdi Rann reined in his steed beside Shadowfax, who had come to a halt at the foot of the mountain. Although the road wound on for at least half a mile that could be seen, to follow it much further would obviously take them beyond Mount Doom and on to Barad-dûr. "What happens now?"

"We carry on with our feet," Sam said simply. "I have to find Mr Frodo."

"And what'll you do when you finds him?" Smagnu was still a little vague about blind loyalty. "You gonna bring him back down?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "But I promised Mr Gandalf I wouldn't leave him and I'm not about to break that promise now, not after all we've been through."

"I can't understand where they could have gone," Merry slid down from the stallion's back. "We would have caught up to them by now, if they were on foot. Yet I am certain they are not captured."

"Beggin' yer pardon, Mr New Pip, Sir," Bloggin was being instructed by both brother and Elf to find out all he could. "Why does yer think that?"

"If something bad had happened to Pippin," Merry said slowly, as he turned to the inquisitive orc with more than a hint of suspicion, "I would know."

"I've got some food," Majdi Rann offered practically. "Why don't we take a rest here for a moment and perhaps we can work out what's best."

Merry and Sam offered no further argument to this plan. It seemed to them both that the only logical place to search was on the volcano and it was going to be a hard climb, especially as neither was in a particularly good state to attempt even a walk through the Shire, let alone an angry fire-breathing mountain.

The two hobbits sat down with the Uruk and the Man to share a meagre repast of stale bread and suspiciously elderly cheese, washed down with rather heady, but flat cider, while Bloggin scurried around, scavenging insects and bones, supplemented by a prize find of a large juicy snail.

"Here," Sam tentatively held out a piece of cheese to the creature. "There's enough for you."

Bloggin looked suspiciously at the offering. "Iss all right Mister Sir," he shook his head as he shoved a large beetle in his mouth and crunched down. "There's plenty o' tasty bits and pieces round here."

Sam shuddered at the crunch and turned back to the business in hand. "I don't know how we're going to find them." He waved his hand up towards the vast mountain. "They could have gone any way up."

"Perhaps we could track them," Merry said hopefully. "You know, like Strider, look for signs and such."

"I doubt you'll find much in this desolate place," Majdi had been set to look for fugitives before across the plains of Gorgoroth, although he did not mention that now. "It's very hard to track someone across barren rock."

"There's a road," Smagnu took a swig of the cider and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've been there meself. Starts from Lugbúrz and goes up to the fire river. Reckon if they're headed that way they'll have found it."

{}{}{}{}{}{}

"What's he doing?" Gandalf suspected from the crooked smile of Sniggin's face that Bloggin might be enjoying himself.

"Just scavving about," Sniggin appeared to listen for a moment. "He's doin' good!"

"Scavving?"

"It's er…um a orc word," Grutfley explained to the impatient wizard. "Like scavenging with a bit o' thieving thrown in – sort o' finders keepers if yer takes my meaning."

"Yeah," Sniggin nodded in approval. "'e's got four beetles 'n a snail 'n…"

"Tell him to stop scavenging and find out what the others are doing!" Gandalf frowned. "We don't need to hear the dubious details of orc diets."

"Oh 'e's got other fings 'n all!" Sniggin was excited; he always shared with his brother anything they scavved. "He's got a funny white stone what looks like it's been 'ollered out and some strips o' cloth, a bit o' metal what's grubby but…"

"Wait," Gandalf's soft-spoken response surprised the other listeners, who had expected him to admonish Sniggin once more for wasting time. "Tell him to show what he has found to the others." He paused for a moment, thoughtfully murmuring under his breath. "Tell him to show them to Merry… erum… New Little Pip… he's to say they are 'clues'."

_"grump splig plag glup pip pipi"_

_"glop?"_

_"I hear you Sniggin; listen carefully Bloggin. The word is '__**clues**__', can you say that?"_

_"ploog!"_

_"Try to say it out loud."_

_"owt plowd?"_

_"Yes."_

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Carefully, Bloggin collected up his treasures and scurried over to Merry. He noticed for the first time the effect of his earlier attack on the hobbit, whose nose was swollen and had two black rings emerging around his eyes.

"Beggin' yer pardon Mr New Little Pip," Bloggin cast his stare downwards, feeling most awkward about his earlier unplanned action. "Me bruvver… that is yer wizard… or it's… I dunno your Helf or someones…"

"What?" Merry's head was throbbing and this small orc was not making much sense, even to someone without a headache.

"I'm to shows yer these 'ere cul-ews," Bloggin proffered a strip of material and the strange white stone.

"Where did you find this?" Merry snatched the peculiar stone and blinked his eyes to see it better. "It's the bowl of Pippin's pipe! Sam, look at this! Pippin must have broken his pipe somehow and dropped the bowl part."

"Bless my toes! Yes!" Sam took the evidence and turned it over and over as if it might reveal where its owner had gone. "At least we know they came this way. We'd better get moving."

"Right!" Merry grabbed the pipe bowl back and stowed it in his pocket. "Let's get climbing!"

{}{}{}{}{}{}

"Gandalf, it is time," Aragorn pushed aside the canvas door and strode into the tent. "We will need all the men we can muster."

"Of course," Gandalf glanced around at the occupants of the marquee. "Faramir, I imagine you will wish to command the City Guard?"

"Indeed, it would seem the right place for me at this time." Faramir looked hopefully at Éowyn to see if this would impress her at all, but her gaze had fallen upon the Lord Aragorn and did not stray.

Gandalf harrumphed as if to call the man's attention back to the business in hand. He would not be too badly missed the wizard mused, as he was so busy trying to attract the Lady Éowyn's attention whilst attempting to appear useful that he was really in the way.

"And you Gimli?" Gandalf knew the dwarf was concerned for Legolas and also that he would have to go as a foot soldier, as he doubted any other warrior would offer him a pillion ride as the elf had done.

"Aye," Gimli rose and reached for his axe. "I wouldn't miss a fight, especially with orc heads to hew!"

Sniggin quivered at this and looked nervously round at Grutfley, but the Sergeant had one eye on a flagon of wine and the other on the exit. A good trick if you can do it and Grutfley, apart from a tendency to strabismus, had long trained himself to keep his eyes independently busy, especially in tricky situations.

"And I shall away to the healing tents," Dysgwr announced. "I am no soldier and my labours will be of greater value there to give succour to the wounded."

"I could…" Éowyn began.

But Gandalf cut her short, before Aragorn could do so. "You, my Lady, I cannot do without," he said firmly. "Legolas still needs tending and your skill with mindspeaking is invaluable." In truth the Lady Éowyn could definitely not be spared, especially as, Wizard though he was, even Gandalf feared the wrath of her brother should she be allowed to ride into battle again.

"What of the orcs and trolls?" Gandalf asked. "Will they march with you, Aragorn?"

"We cannot afford to refuse any ally that is truly willing and able," Aragorn spoke decisively. "Who do you suggest should be their Captain?"

"With Captain Smagnu otherwise engaged," Gandalf pointed out, "you have little choice. Sergeant Grutfley will have to serve, if he is willing?"

"Eh? What?" At the mention of his name Grutfley suddenly became aware that he was being called upon to actually do something. "I'm not really… that is… I don't…"

"No modesty, Sergeant," Gandalf flattered. "I have seen how these little orcs respect you and follow your commands. I suggest a promotion to Acting Captain."

"By Durin's beard!" Gimli exclaimed. "If he's Captain material, then I'm an elf maiden in disguise!"

"Really?" Sniggin's eyes opened wide in astonishment.

"No, Sniggin," Gandalf chuckled at the dwarf's irritation. "He's just a highly disgruntled dwarf."

0-0-0-0-0

"Just a fugging minute!" Smagnu was not in the habit of asking politely. As Merry began to scramble up the rock face, he caught him by the scruff of the collar and hauled him back down.

"No! No! Oomph!" Merry landed rather heavily against Smagnu's solid chest. He spluttered as he gained his feet and breath, "I have to find Pip!"

Majdi Rann, not really knowing what was going on and used to following orders, took the Uruk's cue and grabbed Sam, pulling him back down. "You'd best wait until… well, you'd best wait."

"There's no time for waiting!" Sam managed to restrain from kicking the man. After all, he did seem to be on their side. "Mr Frodo and his cousin are up there and we have to find them! Mr Gandalf gave me special orders not to let Mr Frodo out of my sight!"

"Yeah, but you don't know what else is up there!" It was a general rumour in Lugbúrz that workers that were sent on the Fire Mountain road detail often did not return. Whether this was because they met an untimely end or simply ran off was never quite established, but Smagnu was a firm believer in rumours, especially the bad kind. "They say there're fiends and ogres and all kinds of hideous monsters, what suck yer blood and magick yer into the long, black, empty place!"

Merry, in spite of his fear and worry for Pippin and Frodo, nearly laughed out loud at the idea of his Mr Smagnude being afraid of hideous monsters! He was almost tempted to ask him if he'd ever seen himself in a looking glass. And as for being worried about ending up in a black and empty place; the Uruk seemed to have spent most of his life in Barad-dûr! How much worse could it be?

He was also tempted to wriggle from the Uruk's grasp and just head up the mountainside in search of his cousins. But he realised that would be churlish. At the very least, he owed Mr Smagnude some kind of explanation; especially after all the care and protection he had afforded all four of the hobbits.

"Understand," Merry began. "We have to do this, Sam and I. Don't worry about us; hobbits go very light and we can be quite elusive when we choose." Merry took the orc's great paw in his. "You wait here or, if you'd rather, make your way to safety. We cannot ask more of either of you."

"Besides," Sam nodded in agreement. "This is most likely a job for quiet and cunning, rather than might and main!"

Smagnu looked as if he was about to protest but something in the hobbits' words found a core deep inside him he did not even know he possessed. He was used to taking barked out orders; to doing as he was told, or making others, rather forcibly, do as he told them. These hobbits though, had a way of gentle persuasion that was difficult to argue with. He glanced at Majdi and shrugged. "What do you think?"

Majdi sank down onto his haunches and met Merry's determined eyes with a puzzled frown. "I vowed to protect you; to save you if I could. It's probably the first truly honourable thing I've done in a long time and I was not sure why. But now I think I know. For all you are small and seem so fragile, you have a courage and nobility I've never encountered in men three times your size." Majdi took Merry's other hand and kissed it lightly. "It is because you care about others – even over your own safety. That is what makes a true soldier, not bluster and brawn. You have a stout and noble heart, little one; a bravery bigger than all the evils of this world."

He rose up again and nodded to Smagnu. "Let them go. I will stand guard here in case anything of foul intent should follow and to, at least, guard the horses against their return."

"All right then, New Little Pip," Smagnu ruffled Merry's hair affectionately. "Go and find your friends and we'll keep watch. But if you're not back by moonrise, we'll come and get you."

"If the moon should ever rise again," Sam glanced up at the blackened sky. "I'm sure we'll be glad of it."

"Let's go then." Bloggin had been silent throughout the exchange but now made his flat statement as if there had never been any question that he would accompany the hobbits. "What?" He looked askance at the questioning faces of the others. "Course I got to go. Me 'ead… well that is me bruvver says, the Helf says, the wizzard says I'm to go wiv 'em."

"You ain't going nowhere!" Smagnu growled. "You'll get in the way and I don't see what use you'd be anyway!"

"No, it's all right," Merry was not sure exactly what was going on with the little orc, but he could tell there was some sort of conduit between him and Gandalf, although how he could explain that to his Mr Smagnude was beyond him at the moment. "He's only little, like us, so he won't be a bother and I… I mean he's like a lucky mascot now. Let him come."

"Besides," Sam too was sure there was something eerily familiar about Bloggin. "He can always run a message back to you at need."

TBC


	46. Sense and Serendipity

**Sense and Serendipity**  
**Chapter 138**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

"Oi! Come 'ere!" Grutfley twisted his mouth to align the top and bottom gaps in his snaggled teeth and gave a loud whistle across the heads of his ragged battalion.

"Yessssir?" A grimy, medium-sized orc, with one eye and only two fingers on his right hand, scuttled over to the Sergeant, now – and much against his better judgement – Acting Captain. "Yesssirrr Cap'n Grutfley?"

Grutfley squinted down at Oi. The Sergeant had originally named him when the scruffy orc claimed that he had no idea what his name was or even if he'd ever been issued with one. His appearance was not exactly improved by the addition of the battalion colours. His face had been dotted with bright blue spots and he now looked more like a half-chewed liquorish allsort than a soldier.

"Yer needs to get them trolls moving up to the front like what the General Boss says!" Grutfley was not in the best of moods, since he had been ruthlessly (to his mind) seconded by the Man General – Lord of all Aragorn or some such place – to take command of the Orc battalion in the absence of Captain Smagnu. Added to which, he had lost his two best _con-trollers_*, Sniggin and Bloggin, and his own appointment of Oi was not going too well.

"I'se not had much of a chance yet Cap'n ssssir," Oi hissed. "Dey's all isst following Groll an' he dursen't go where I tells he!"

"I told yer!" Grutfley growled. "Yer has to give 'em grub – or at least con them into thinking you're going to!"

"But I ain't go no grub Cap'n," Oi held out his hands, proving that he had no comestibles hidden about his person. "Wass I suss'posed to do?"

"Well yer has to make him thinks yer has!" Grutfley actually understood the problem only too well. Sniggin refused to be parted from his ladle and the Wizard refused to be parted from Sniggin. As far as Grutfley knew, the ladle was the only way Sniggin and Bloggin had managed to con-troll-er the great beast.

"I'llss do me bessst Cap'n,"

Oi scuttled off again and Grutfley watched and sighed as his new Lance Corporal began jumping up and down in front of Groll and his entourage, waving his fists and shouting, "Fud! Fud! Come on – follow Oi," (he was proud of his newly allocated name and used it at every possible opportunity) "Get fud, Oi got fud!"

Groll eventually got the idea and began to follow the orc, the other trolls straggled out behind him in a long line. It was hardly an orderly procession; many of the trolls were casting about on either side to check for anything edible and Groll was weaving about as if drunk on hunger.

"Grug fud!" Groll finally decided he was not going to get anything to eat out of this prancing orc and with a lumbering lurch sat himself down on the ground, refusing to move any further.

There is a fine balance with trolls. Unlike the ferocious Olog-hai who were bred for evil and war, this breed was barely sentient and fed too much they will not fight. To do so they need to be hungry, but fed too little they refuse to do anything at all. That was the state that Groll and his followers had now reached.

"Nooo! No! No! No! Nooo!" Oi jumped up and down with frustration. "No ssittss! Up! Up! Up!" He kicked the stubbornly seated leader troll in the knee and then started to hop up and down on one foot, clutching the other in pain. "Ow! Ow! Owww! Bad trollsss! Bad Groll!"

Grutfley watching, albeit from a safe distance, grunted in exasperation and it might have been noted, had anyone been taking notes, with some satisfaction. "I towld 'em not to go makin' me no Actin' Cap'n! Now see what we gets!"

*_Orc word, meaning 'one who controls a troll'._

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Aragorn sat tall and straight upon Hasufel as he surveyed his depleted ranks. Less than six thousand they had been when first the challenge to the Dark Lord was cried out across the Black Gate. Now, even with the turncoat orc battalion, they numbered fewer than four thousand. But Aragorn could not, would not, countenance defeat.

Nevertheless, he could not ignore the thought skittering across his mind, _'what if Frodo fails? What if Sauron gains the Ring?' _

But Sauron, even with the mighty One Ring, was not unassailable. Aragorn's own forebear, Elendil, together with Gil-Galad, the great Elven Lord, had overthrown Him, even though they both perished in the task. But of course, the Ring Itself was not slain and Sauron's power had lived on through It.

Aragorn was not a man to harbour doubt, but even he could not have sworn on Gilraen's grave that he was so unlike Elendil's son, Isildur, that he himself could yet cast the One Ring into Orodruin's fire nigh at hand where it had been forged.

Those who knew the history commonly assumed that Isildur was weak, that had he been a stronger and worthier heir to the throne of Gondor he would not have hesitated to destroy the One Ring, even without the pleas of Elrond and Cirdan, but this Aragorn doubted.

Isildur had been a brave and noble warrior. A lesser Man might have fled in the face of such a conflict. His brother and father, slaughtered along with the great Gil-Galad, he had remained steadfast and, with the shard of his father's broken sword, hacked the One Ring from Sauron's finger. How could a Man, who had faced such a mighty foe, succumb to such frailty?

It was not the physical conflict that had defeated his ancestor, but rather the unspoken and yet terrible power of Sauron which lived on in the One Ring that became Isildur's Bane. The mightiest of the mighty had shrunk from the possibility of taking the Ring – Gandalf, Galadriel, Cirdan, Elrond – all had shown their strength by refusing It. Boromir the Brave had been defeated by It's power. How then could he, Aragorn, ever think that It would not capture his soul.

No – the hope had to lie with Frodo – an innocent, who harboured no dreams of greatness or power. And the halfling's chance lay now with this small but resolute army's ability to engage the enemy as long as they could muster strength.

"Are we going to ride up and knock on the gate again?" Gimli, freed from duty by Gandalf, had gained a pillion ride to the Captains' conference by the expedient means of explaining to Drâmym and Ŭnomer that he was practically as a father to their good friend Meriadoc Holdwine and that he would also tell them later who had pinched their good whiskey and, more to the point, who had drunk it!

"Master Dwarf, you seem impatient to see battle." Prince Imrahil had had little experience of warring dwarves. "I fear the tumult will be on us soon enough."

"Gruuurrr!" Gimli growled. "There's nothing quite like cleaving a few heads from necks to relieve tension."

"Gimli speaks for me," Éomer proved an unlikely ally. "Although I shudder at the presence of the foul folk amongst our own troops. How can you be certain Aragorn they will not fall upon our men once we are engaged in the conflict?"

"I can give no guarantee," Aragorn admitted. "But our fortunes are such that all who are willing must be called upon to encounter the enemy. Come, we shall ride forth once more to summon Sauron to fight. Our truce is ended and there shall be no respite now until the battle is won or the last soldier lies defeated upon the wastes of Dagorlad!"

Aragorn urged his horse to a gallop, heading for the ominous Black Gate, and behind him followed Prince Imrahil and Éomer of Rohan, flanked by Drâmym and Ŭnomer with his dwarvish passenger.

"Come forth foul Mouth of Sauron!" Aragorn cried. "Our truce is no more. Send forth your army to fight or surrender to the will of your Master's foes!"

The deputation did not stay for an answer; they knew what it would be. Aragorn rounded swiftly and rallied his small, but valiant army into a defensive position, in order to play for time. His troops were clustered in a tight circle as the marauding orcs poured from the Black Gate and bore down on them.

But as the men took their positions, according to rank and order, a strange sight assailed the Captains.

"What in dog's teeth does that idiot Grutfley think he's doing?" Gimli spluttered in indignation and disbelief. "I thought you would order those blasted trolls to stay at the rear Aragorn? And why in Durin's name are they all sitting down?"

Aragorn almost gasped in surprise at the obviously well thought out strategy. Then a small smile crept across his face.

Without any deliberate planning, Oi had managed to wind the trolls in a strung-out semi-circle in front of the Westron army and now, firmly seated on the ground, they presented a strong defensive wall for the beleaguered, battle sore troops.

Aragorn removed the smile and turned to Gimli. "If your friend Ŭnomer would be so kind, please take a message to Acting Captain Grutfley. Tell him, Aragorn confers on him an honorary field commendation for excellent tactics in battle. He is awarded the commission of full Captain as well as my sincere gratitude."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Harrroooo… harrroooo!" Clear and golden the resonance of the horn echoed across the battlefield as the brigand upstart of the north summoned his troops to meet the next onslaught. With protesting screeches and a grinding of gears that made the ground rumble, the Black Gates parted slowly and heaved forth the macabre multitude of relentless servants of his Dark Lord.

Beneath the blackened skies the two armies locked together in a sundering mass of mayhem and slaughter.

The Mouth of Sauron did not sully his Office with hand-to-hand fighting. He stood high up on the ramparts of the Black Gate scanning the conflict below. Although no mortal man, or indeed hobbit or orc, could see his eyes, he was not entirely without sight. His vision, like his voice, was owned by his Lord.

The great prize that the Lord Sauron had promised to him in exchange for his mouth, his eyes and his ears, now lay within his grasp. He could feel his Master's will, emanating across the battle plain – all would fall before His might! Men were fools to resist His force!

But as his Lord surveyed His coming victory through his eyes, the man felt a shudder; a second of doubt. Although the Army of the West that travailed them was persistent, it would not prevail. Their numbers were derisory and, no matter how valiantly they fought, they would be overcome by his Master's power. The Mouth realised there was something else that distracted Sauron; it was an insignificant creature, possibly the one that he had captured and sent to the Dark Lord. It had not arrived!

Not yet, but the vessel of Sauron assured his Master it would. He had dispatched it to Barad-dûr himself.

**"MORE HASTE FOOL! I WOULD HAVE IT NOW!"**

The Mouth of Sauron hesitated in fear. Had he failed his Master? He should have escorted the rat-land spy to his Lord himself! Even as he pondered he felt the ominous pressure that loured over his own consciousness shift, as Sauron cast His mind away from the battle to search the dark lands within Mordor for the elusive prize that should by now be His.

He felt reverberating tremors as the power of his Master stirred all sinister spectres and spirits that bent to His will, sluggishly and complaining, awakened from their crevices and fissures in the black places of His land, to scour the barren wilderness for any rumour of mysterious power riven from its due place.

Already the Nazgûl that remained were drawing away from the battle, diminished to seven now, unless the Dark Lord's final struggle could hold sway over His enemies and the two defeated Ringwraiths be returned from the abyss. They spurred their rank steeds back towards Barad-dûr, searching for that which their Master craved.

But their search was sorely hampered. For the root of Sauron's evil lay in the keeping of one who did not comprehend the depths of corruption that lay within It. Try as It might, the Ring's entreaties to Its bearer went unheard and unheeded; for he did not truly understand the possibility of greatness through power and malevolence.

Nevertheless, there were others who sought It. The trail was far from cold and Sauron's hosts of ghostly servants felt Its urgency and desperation. Relentlessly they rose up at their Master's bidding and swarmed after the focus of His desire.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Nasssty fat hobbit!" Gollum could still feel his neck throbbing from the rope Sam had tied round it. "Sméagol not a dog! They ties us up like frogs on sticks! And now we loses our Precious! But Sméagol clever! Cleverer than stupid hobbitsses! We knows where they're going – Ho yes we does! Bad, wicked Massster, taking the Precious to the fire mountain. He thinks he's throwing It in fire river! But we knows better! He thinks he's Master of the Precious, but Precious will Master him! Then Sméagol takes It! Yes, the Precious will be ours again!"

Gollum mumbled and grumbled loudly to his alter ego as he careered along. He knew there was no one in the desolate rocks to overhear him anyway and, even if there had been, he would not have tempered his ramblings; he was far too angry at being thwarted and the only coherent thought pulsing through his mind was to find the tricksy Master and to reclaim his precious Ring, at all costs, before the foolish hobbit could destroy It – or, worse still, claim It!

Had he paused to consider the possibilities of anyone hearing and actually listening to him or the chances of finding and bettering Frodo, his answers to both would have been wrong.

Gollum was being listened to very intently indeed, by the thin watery wraiths and wights that dwelt in the black crevices and foetid holes of the blighted terrain. Tormented and bitter souls who had fallen foul of Sauron and were condemned to exist in the half-life of His shadow realm, forced to rise up at his bidding, they now clamoured at the heels of the benighted creature. They were drawn to his lust, understanding through their Master that such aching hunger must be directed at the very thing He sought.

Inexorably, and without Gollum even realising, so caught up was he in his own pursuit, they lifted his feet from the ground and carried him on with a speed he could never have managed alone.

On he flew, across mountainous outcrops, valleys and ravines spurred on by the ghostly leeches until at last they reached the very same road which, but an hour earlier, Frodo and Pippin had discovered.

He paused, sensing that his pursuit was almost fulfilled. The ghostly beings hovered expectantly around him, whispering silently and urging him towards his goal. He sniffed the air and then the ground.

"Yesss! Now we have them!" Gollum whooped in triumph. "The hobbitsses came this way. They are going to the fire river! Now Sméagol will catch them! Catch them and throw them both in and take back our Precious!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"There it be go agains!"

"What be… I mean wh-what are you talking about?" Frodo felt wretchedly sick and almost wished he had something in his stomach to throw up. "I-I can't hear any- anyth-thing."

"Scrambleramble! And like it be whooshering round of we! Fro?" Pippin unhooked his cousin's arm from his shoulder and turned to look carefully into Frodo's face. "You stoppered being grisly grey, you face it go be greens now!

"I feel so ill," Frodo nearly sank to the ground, but Pippin hoisted him up, wedging his shoulder under his cousin's arm. "It's like every one of my bones is aching from inside."

"It be we Ring," Pippin whispered. "We allermost go be theres now and It you not want go It in fireplace!"

"N-no!" Frodo stammered. His whole body was shaking. "It's d-different now. I don't care about that any more. I just feel so lost, so frail and hollow. Like part of my soul is missing. Help me Pip, I-I am beyond helping myself."

"We could carr…" Pippin abruptly broke off the suggestion that he knew would be rejected and looked nervously around. "There really is be some lots of somebodies elses here with we! Hurrying ups Fro! We helpering you all ways and we be quickerly as quicks!"

Frodo took a breath; then swallowed the feeling of nausea that was rising too abruptly. Leaning on Pippin they struggled on, both dragging their feet, inch by excruciating inch until at last they could see a dark cleft in the mountainside. As they drew nearer, a deep rumbling could be heard as if several mighty giants were grinding impossibly massive boulders together. From the black fissure there was the occasional flash of angry red light that set both their weary hearts racing with apprehension.

"Is fireplace," Pippin mumbled almost to himself.

"Y-yes," Frodo felt relief and fear wash over him. The trepidation in his heart turned suddenly to adrenaline. "I can do it! I… that is we, will be rid of this thing once and for all." He drew away from his cousin's support and pulled himself straight. "You wait here, I can manage the last few steps." And before Pippin could protest, Frodo started forward towards the black cleft of the Sammath Naur.

Pippin sank wearily to the grey-black ash covered path. His head sunk down into his hands, not wanting to watch the final obliteration of the hated, and yet craved for obsession. His emotions agitated sickeningly, he fought the impulse to run after Frodo and seize the Ring and roll down the mountainside in a desperate bid to keep It from destruction.

But even as he averted his eyes, Pippin heard a sound that gripped his heart and froze his blood.

"Wicked masster!" it hissed. "Wicked masster cheats us; cheats Sméagol, _gollum_. He musstn't go that way. He musstn't hurt the Preciouss. Give It to Sméagol, yess, give It to us! Give It to uss!"

Frantically Pippin scrambled to his feet and lunged over to where Frodo and Gollum were locked together in a violent struggle. Lacking any kind of weapon, Pippin leapt upon Gollum's back and, with his good hand, he avoided the snapping jaws and managed to hook two fingers into the foul creature's nostrils and pulled upwards as hard as he could.

It was a dirty trick, learned in his scrapping days when Pippin was often outweighed by equally dirty and sturdier, but less wily opponents. And it was effective. Gollum let out an ear-splitting screech, but also let go of Frodo as he squirmed and wriggled to escape Pippin's hooking grip.

"Goes!" Pippin yelled as he grappled grimly with the creature. "Be go do it Fro!"

When Frodo had first felt the impact on his back he had thought for a brief instant that it was Pippin attacking him. That moment passed quickly as he realised with horror, and indeed a modicum of relief, that it was Gollum. The creature was on his back, snarling and scrabbling as he tried to wrestle him around to reach for the Ring. Frodo was handicapped by using both hands to keep the Ring safe from his attacker, but managed to kick out violently with both feet, landing several desperate but effective blows.

Then Frodo felt, rather than saw, Pippin join the melee. Suddenly the squirming weight on his back was lightened and he realised that his smaller cousin had somehow managed to wrest the loathsome creature off him and was shouting for him to go.

Frodo pulled himself clear and gained his feet. Gollum was face down with Pippin sitting squarely on top of him, his left arm was tightly around Gollum's neck and both legs were wrapped firmly around his midriff, effectively preventing the wretch from either hitting him or escaping.

"Goes!" Pippin shouted again. "We is can holds he till we yous Fro getting It dones!"

Although the words were jumbled, the message was clear enough. "Good work Pip!" Frodo clenched his hand around the Ring and raised his fist in a bizarre salute towards Barad-dûr. "This evil yoke will be gone when I return. You just hold him until then Peregrin Took!"

"Just goes!"

Frodo needed no more encouragement. Gollum was screaming and sobbing now and if there was any attention to be attracted that would certainly do it. He set off as fast as his injuries would allow, limping towards the Cracks of Doom, his purpose fixed and steadfast.

"Stoppering you noises!" Pippin growled at Gollum. "You not scapering we! It go be goned and no more for you evers gone get He!"

"Nooooo! Thief! Liar! Murderer!" Gollum screamed at Frodo's disappearing back. "Give me my Precioussssss!"

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Yers Mr Wizard, Sir," Sniggin reported, "Mr New Little Pip and Mr Sandwich is climbed up on a sorta road now."

"Ask him if he sees anyone else?" This was actually the first piece of coherent news Gandalf had managed to glean, so his hope was rising. "Hobbits, orcs, men… anyone?"

_'glebod glef?'_

_'gloog! nug!'_

"No – nuffink!" Sniggin confirmed.

_'glis glub glok!'_

"Oh – but he can _**hears**_ a lot o' summink!"

"What? Quickly, tell me!" Gandalf almost shook the wretched creature. "What does he hear?"

"I dursn't knows, Yer 'Onour Sir!" Sniggin looked nervously round for Grutfley, but of course his Sergeant had long gone to the battlefield.

_'bloog ip plound?'_ Sniggin made a quick enquiry. Tension mounted in the tent as the worried little orc's face contorted with concentration, biting down on his blue-black tongue as he tried to decipher his brother's description of the noise.

"He says it… it's like a…" Sniggin paused, Bloggin had unusually given him a rather complex description. "It's like a constipated sheepsie being strangulated round the head by a well-meaning, but misguided snake."

"Hmm… I see," Gandalf might have laughed at the description under less urgent circumstances. "That is not good."

Legolas stirred uneasily. He had not understood the exchange between the two orc brothers, but he had heard Sniggin's translated description and was certain of the sound's originator.

"What is it?" Éowyn was certain she had never heard anything resembling the sound of a constipated sheep being strangled by a snake. In her experience sheep gave snakes a wide berth and were quite regular in their habits, unless they managed to get into the barley field, when the opposite was generally the case.

"Sniggin!" Gandalf knew all four hobbits must be tired and weary, but this danger could sabotage the vital Quest. "Tell your brother to find this noise at once! He must tell all the hobbits not to trust the creature! If necessary, they may even have to eradicate him!"

"Yers Master Wizard, Sir!" Sniggin put his head on one side, his eyes squeezed tightly together in unaccustomed concentration. Gradually a suspicion of a smile crept over his wizened little face. "I fink it's all right Mr Wizard Yer 'Onour! Me bruvver and the others have found the noise now. Mr Little Pip has already eradimicated him. Leastways I fink that's what he's a'doin'."

"Pippin had eradimca…" Gandalf was not easily flustered, but this situation was throwing up a lot of anomalies, even for an Istari to deal with. "You mean, Pippin has eradicated Gollum? How?"

"Thass what all the noise was about," Sniggin announced triumphantly. "He's eradimacted the sheep noise thing 'cause he's sitting on him!"

"Hmp! Well that's good!" Gandalf exhaled a breath of unpleasant tension. "Good work, little orc, er Sniggin. And remind me to explain to you what eradicate means – perhaps when we have more time."

**-TBC-**

**Author's Notes:**

A big thank you to all you kind reviewers – your feedback is very much appreciated.

Hi Angela, re your question on chapter 42 "isn't Sauron Maiar as well?" I guess you are referring to Gandalf fleeing Bloggin's mind when Sauron arrives?  
Answer: They are both Maiar but Gandalf regards Sauron as an unknown quantity since he has re-emerged. Sauron was driven from Dol Guldur by the White Council, but as Gandalf attested to the Council, "Soon he will be too strong for you, even without the Great Ring; for he rules the Nine, and of the Seven he has recovered three." But that aside, he is not incarnate in this meeting, and is using stealth to watch the hobbits. His fear is that they will be discovered by his presence and, in particular, fears for Bloggin's safety. That is why he retreats. Is that what you meant? If not, then sorry for the long explanation!

Hello Dreamflower, nice to see you here!

FantasyFan, I loved your comments about a "new fellowship"! It hadn't really occurred to me, but you're dead right!

Welcome Errol, a very nice first review, and I'm sorry about the "grub" but orcs is orcs! KM tells me that he would be far braver than his non-knitted counterpart. That's probably because of the yarn factor though!

Pippinfan: You're right, it is all coming together, but also, all about to fall apart!

GW: A little something for you in this chapter – hope you like it!


	47. Decisions, Decisions!

**Decisions, Decisions**  
**Chapter 139**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

Frodo was grateful for the adrenaline rush that was helping to throw the cacophony of hurt and pain running through him into a mere background detail. He was swept along by a triumphant euphoria, knowing that his Quest was actually within reach at last. But, as he ploughed further into the depths of the volcano, to the very brink of the caldera, his pace slowed.

Gandalf and Elrond had both indicated to him that he might find it difficult to destroy his burden. Carefully he edged up to the brink of the chasm and peered down. The sight was impressive and extremely intimidating. A turbulent river of bubbling magma engulfed the valley below.

"No, not a river," Frodo muttered aloud. "It's more like an ocean – a tumultuous sea of evil fire!"

In spite of the waves of suffocating heat he sat tentatively on the rim of the volcano and drew the Ring from around his neck. He held it out over the seething caldera as if to drop it, but uncertainty stayed his hand.

It seemed to Frodo such a simple thing to do! "After the many trials and pains all of us have endured," he mused. "Can it really be this easy? What would Bilbo have told him to do?"

Incongruously, the weary, pain-laced little hobbit, sitting on the very edge of the Cracks of Doom, laughed out loud. He knew exactly what the dear old hobbit would say. _'Frodo, my lad, ask for everyone's advice if you must, then ignore all of it and do what you think is best! Because advice is all well and fine but…''_

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"Uncle Rory, I need to ask you something," Frodo's eyes were fixed firmly on the Master of Buckland's study floor.

"Hmm… Let me guess," Rorimac Brandybuck had been waiting for this interview, although he had deemed wisely that he was not the one to initiate it. "You want to know if I think you should take up Bilbo's offer? Go and live with old mad Baggins?"

"He's not mad Uncle," Frodo had heard the epithet many times before. "Just… well just different. He says it's the Took blood in him."

"Well, there's many a hobbit can claim Took blood," Rory laughed and patted Frodo affectionately on the shoulder. "My own mother, your dear departed grandmamma, was a Took after all. That doesn't mean we all have to go racing off on barmy adventures with dragons and dwarves!"

"So… so you don't think I should go then?" Frodo actually adored the company of his eccentric older cousin, especially hearing about his 'barmy' adventures. But he really did not want to leave without the blessing of his adopted family.

"Oh not at all," Rory's face turned serious. "It's an excellent opportunity for you, young Frodo m'lad. Bilbo has no heirs and he certainly has a bob or two, be it dragon's hoard or whatever old Bungo left him. I know for a fact his father laid down some rather good Old Winyards for him. Fine wine that…"

"But Uncle Rory," Frodo was well aware that the epithet 'Goldfather' referred to the Patriarch's shrewd ability to accrue wealth. The affluence of the Brandybucks had grown considerably under his stewardship. "I do not want to go and live with Bilbo just so that I can inherit from him. I really do like him and we get along so well!"

"Well that's perfect then!" Rorimac chortled. "After all, you are the son of the youngest Brandybuck daughter, 'may she rest in peace', and much as I think you are a fine young fellow, you do not stand to inherit much from this family."

"It's just that…" Frodo was a little dismayed that his Uncle did not seem to understand the emotional ties that he was battling. "I think I might miss everyone here. Especially Uncle Sara and Auntie Esmie and most of all little Merry."

"Ah yes, little Merry," A proud smile always crept over Rory's face at the mention of his grandson. "I have heard tell that he is scarcely out of your pocket. But he's a big lad of seven now, he'll manage."

"I think he'll miss me," Frodo said sadly. "I know I'll miss him."

"Don't you worry about my Merry!" Rory clasped Frodo on the shoulder and steered him towards the door. "If he pines I'll buy him a new pony, or perhaps throw him a special party to cheer him up. He'll be fine. You go and live with Bilbo with my blessing. It's your best chance."

"Thank you Uncle." Frodo walked despondently along the grand hallway of Brandy Hall. It had not been the advice he was looking for and to suggest that being showered with more unlooked for gifts would placate Merry made no sense to him. It often amazed Frodo, and practically everyone else in the Brandybuck clan, that Merry was such a delightful lad, given the overbearing indulgence of his grandfather.

"Aunt Esmie?" Frodo had found his aunt closeted in her sewing room. When she heard Frodo's voice she did not look up immediately, but dabbed at her nose with a lace-trimmed hankie. "What's wrong?"

"Oh Frodo, my dear heart!" It was obvious that she had been weeping. "Please don't ask me what you should do. I might give you the wrong advice for all the right reasons."

"You don't want me to leave, do you Auntie?" Frodo took her hand and knelt down to look up into Esmeralda's eyes. "I don't want to leave you either."

"It's not so much the leaving, my darling lad," Esmeralda stroked Frodo's unruly dark curls. "It's the adoption that tears at me. I know you need to go, and folk come and go all the time. You've spent plenty of time with Bilbo, and I know he cares for you. But adoption! I would be breaking a solemn oath!"

"An oath?" Frodo was puzzled. "What oath is that Auntie?"

"To your dear, departed mother," Esmeralda sniffed into her hankie again. "I've never told you before, but… well your mother… I suppose it was the Took faerie blood in her… she had a strange intuition, a feeling that something might happen to her."

"Oh my goodness, Auntie," Frodo felt tears start prick at the back of his eyes at the thought of his poor mother having such premonitions.

"She made me promise that if anything should happen to her that I would be as a mother to you."

"But Auntie," Frodo took her hand in his. "That was an awful burden to place on you."

"You silly goose!" Esmeralda smiled through her tears. "Of course it wasn't. I love you as if I were truly your real mother. I was there at your birth and, in all the years waiting for my little Merry, you were a comfort and joy to me. You are truly like my first born and don't you ever forget that."

"I won't Auntie," Frodo smiled. "But now I know I can't leave you. It was hard before, but now I know what you promised Mother…"

"Ah yes, but that is the problem my lamb," Esmeralda sighed deeply. "The adoption. Your Uncle Saradoc and I wanted to adopt you, legally and properly as it were. But Father-in-law wouldn't have it."

"Uncle Rory?" Frodo frowned. "But why not?"

"Because you would have taken precedence over any sons that Sara and I might have had after." She hesitated and looked away as she continued to speak. "You would have been the rightful heir to the Master of Buckland and… and although I had given up all hopes of bearing my own child, your Uncle Rory insisted there was still time."

"And he was right," Frodo said gently. "There was still time, and I would not have expected to take Merry's rightful place."

"But we still hoped to adopt you," Esmeralda's rosy cheeks turned slightly redder than usual. This next subject was not one she felt comfortable discussing with her young charge. "I… I can't explain… it's too complicated. You'll have to take it up with your Uncle Saradoc."

"Yes Auntie," Frodo could sense her embarrassment but could not discern the reason for it. "I understand," he lied.

"Just know Frodo my dear, that if you decide to go, Saradoc and I will be losing a son and Merry a brother," Esmeralda let his hand go as she brushed away a last tear. "But we will always love you, no matter what you decide."

Frodo quickened his pace as he trotted up the winding lane that led to the High Hay. He guessed his Uncle Saradoc would be on his daily inspection round and he wanted to catch him alone.

His Aunt's words were still ringing through his thoughts, especially her last declaration, that Merry would be losing a brother. Frodo still knew that this was going to be the hardest part, if he decided to go with Bilbo. How could he leave his dear, little Merry? How could he even begin to explain it to the child he had adored from the moment he threw up on him and then gurgled a baby laugh, as if he knew they would be friends forever?

"Uncle Sara! Uncle…" Frodo shouted as he saw Saradoc disappearing around a bend in the hedge.

"What-ho Frodo!" Saradoc reined in his pony and turned him about. "Steady there lad. You almost had Bramble bolting in fright!"

"I'm sorry Uncle," Frodo caught up, panting with exertion. He caught the pony's halter and patted the quivering nose. "Sorry Bramble old thing. Didn't mean to scare you."

"What's all the panic?" Saradoc slid down from the pony and ruffled his nephew's hair affectionately. "I could make a guess though – it's the Bilbo decision, no?"

"Yes," Frodo agreed anxiously. "I've been talking to Uncle Rory and to Aunt Esmie, but I still don't know what I should do… not… not to upset anyone and I keep getting different answers… and… and I can't even think of telling Merry yet."

"We-ll…" Saradoc measured his tone. He could see Frodo was upset. "What do _**you**_ want to do?"

"Both!" Frodo said his brow furrowing. Then hastily added, in case his Uncle thought he was being ridiculous, "but I know that isn't possible."

"No," Saradoc nodded slowly. "That much is true and, if I am completely honest and perhaps a tad selfish, I don't want you to go. Not just for myself, you understand, but for Esmie and Merry. They will both miss you terribly."

"I know Aunt Esmie will miss me," Frodo began hesitantly. "But I was confused by what she told me about the adoption."

"Of course," Saradoc caught on immediately to the problem. "Esmie would be uncomfortable to tell you in detail."

"Oh…" Frodo suspected he was not going to get a further explanation from his Uncle either.

"You have to understand my lad," Saradoc seemed to summon himself up for the tricky part. "It's a… well a thing gentleladies don't like to talk about – especially with young tweenagers of the opposite gender – like yourself."

"I see…" said Frodo, not seeing at all.

Saradoc fell silent for a moment, considering carefully where to begin. The lad deserved to know, but he was hesitant to embarrass Frodo, his wife or himself. He decided to start at the other end of the problem.

"You understand hobbit law?" Saradoc began.

"Oh yes," Frodo had read extensively and the subject fascinated him.

"Then you'll know that if Esmie and I had adopted you before Merry was born, then you would have been my first son and rightful heir to the Master of Buckland and succeeded me in due course."

"Yes," Frodo nodded wisely. "That's why Uncle Rory insisted you did not adopt me until after Merry came along.

"Indeed," Saradoc confirmed. "Although I would have happily owned you as my heir, but Rory was anxious that we wait."

"But you have Merry now," Frodo said with a smile, "and a fine heir he will make. But Aunt Esmie says she still is not allowed to adopt me."

"That's the problem," Saradoc sighed. "I have been urging Rory to let us go ahead, but he insists that we wait until Esmie has… well… has reached what womenfolk call, 'the change'."

"Oh yes," Frodo had heard of such things. "That's when older aunts and granddames start to wear lace caps and black shawls. I suppose it's called that because they change their wardrobe."

"Um… not exactly," Saradoc could not suppress a smile. "It's when they stop being fertile, that is, can no longer conceive babies."

"Oh," Frodo was perplexed now. He had thought he understood the term, but obviously not. "But how do they know? I mean, how can they even tell?"

"It's a female thing and hard to explain," Saradoc prevaricated. "They say it is when the moon ceases to rule their blood."

Frodo would consider this statement long and hard later. He had heard something about lasses and a strange monthly indisposition and that a lass would be even more indisposed should she be unmarried and not indisposed thus. Also he knew that the moon waxed and waned in monthly cycles so presumably the two things were connected. But at that moment it did not make much sense at all.

"But Uncle," Frodo was thoroughly confused now. "How does the moon stop you and Aunt Esmie from adopting me?"

"Your Uncle Rory still has his heart set on, what they call, an heir and a spare. That is, he is still hoping that Merry will one day have a younger brother and until Esmie reaches her 'change', that remains a possibility." Saradoc clasped Frodo's shoulder. "We thought it would have occurred by now, but it has not. So, much as I wish to adopt you legally, my father will have none of it."

"So," Frodo concluded, "until that time, I remain, legally, an orphan."

"True," Saradoc nodded. "But you can still take up Bilbo's offer and then you will be heir to Bag End and all his dragon's hoard, if such it be."

"But what about Merry?" Frodo was no nearer to finding his answer than when he had started. "He is dearer to me than even a true brother might be, and I fear to tell him that I am leaving. I have asked everyone what to do and I still don't know."

"What does Bilbo say?" Saradoc asked. "He started all this and he must know how you feel about Merry."

"Oh you know Bilbo," Frodo managed a snort of laughter. "I asked who should I talk to about it and he just said, 'Go not to the elves for advice, for they will say both no and yes.' But that's not really very helpful."

"Well, what he was saying, Frodo my lad," Saradoc gave him an affectionate shake. "He was telling you to make up your own mind. But there does seem to be one important person you have not counselled – perhaps the one person who could make up your mind for you."

"Who is that Uncle?" Frodo had thought of asking Aunt Gilda, but suspected she would only echo Uncle Rory. "I've been to everyone whose opinion really matters."

"Have you asked Merry what he thinks?"

"Merry?"

"Yes, Merry," Saradoc repeated. "What does he think?"

"I don't know." Frodo admitted.

This was the one interview Frodo was dreading. He had not asked little Merry's opinion because he was certain he knew what it would be. In spite of the difference in their ages, the pair had an affinity usually only found in peers. As soon as Merry had been able to toddle, he had followed Frodo around Brandy Hall. Whenever Merry was in trouble, which was often, Frodo was the first person he would turn to and, inevitably, the one who would resolve his difficulties. If Merry had exciting news Frodo would hear it before anyone else. When Merry was given a new toy, which was also often, Frodo would be invited to share it with him. Whenever Frodo was seen, Merry was never far behind.

Except today. Today Merry had searched for Frodo in vain. So when his cousin eventually showed up, in the buttery in time for the children's tea, Merry was most put out.

"Where were you, Fro?" Merry mumbled, his mouth full of bread and honey.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Merry-dogs!" Frodo snatched a piece of buttered bread off Merry's plate and shoved it in his mouth. "I've been busy talking to grown-ups, so you would have been bored."

"I talk with grown-ups all the time," Merry retorted indignantly. "And don't call me Merry-dogs! And don't _**you**_ eat with your mouth full!"

"Talk," Frodo laughed. "It's _**talk**_ with your mouth full, my little Merry-dock-leaf!"

"Are you staying for tea, Master Frodo?" May Flowerwell, the nursemaid, was swaying and patting a squawking baby Doderic on her shoulder, whilst buttering Melilot's bread with her other hand. "Because if so, please sit down and stop teasing the little ones."

"I'm sorry Nanny May," Frodo grinned. "Shall I hold Doderic for you? You seem to have your hands full."

"And you seem to have rather dirty hands," May was a stickler for cleanliness. "Go and wash them and then you can take him for a walk in his perambulator."

"It would be my pleasure!" Frodo quickly scrubbed his hands at the big butlers' sink in the corner. "You want to come with me Merry? We'll give baby Doderic the full tour."

"Of course I'm coming," Merry jammed his last piece of bread and honey into his mouth. "Jub dry 'n strop me!"

"Master Merry!" May frowned with shock. "Manners!"

"Dorry Danny Day…" he gulped the remaining bread down. "…Nanny May, I forgot."

Frodo and Merry strolled along the well-trodden path that led from the kitchen garden to the orchard. The purple lavender was heavy with bees and the warm evening air was rich with the scent of apple blossom mixed with the delicate perfume from the stocks and lupins in Grandmamma Gilda's herbaceous border.

"I used to push you in this perambulator, you know," Frodo peered in at little Doderic, who had finally dozed off. "Only you never went to sleep, no matter how long or far I pushed you."

"Oh well," Merry squeezed in between Frodo's hands to peer over the edge of the pram at the sleeping baby. "I needed to keep an eye on you of course."

"And get under my feet!" Frodo laughed as he looped his arm over Merry to disentangle him from the pram's push handle. "Do you want to sit on the end like you used to?"

"I'm too big for that now," Merry said, a jumble of pride and regret tingeing his voice. "I'd tip it over. Can I push, Fro? Just a little way."

"All right," Frodo said, adding sternly, "but no fooling about. This is a precious baby, not a toy."

"I know that," Merry was often indignant at grown ups' lack of trust in him. "I know a baby needs lots of looking after. Am I going straight enough?"

"Yes," Frodo smiled at his little cousin's determination to get this right. "You're doing fine. I suspect somehow you always will."

"Good," Merry seemed very satisfied with Frodo's answer. "In that case, I can look after this baby now, just like you looked after me – can't I Fro?"

"Well I suppose…"

"'Cause, when you go to Bilbo's that means I'll have to be the big one," Merry bit his lip with concentration as he manoeuvred the perambulator between the gateposts to the orchard. "So, of course, I'll need a baby to look after, so as I can be just like you."

"You know about that?" Frodo was surprised Merry already knew about the proposed change. "I hadn't really decided yet… I wasn't sure whether or not to go."

"I know you have to choose, Fro," Merry carefully parked the perambulator under their favourite apple tree, fixed the brake and adjusted the hood to protect the baby from the low sun and potential damage from falling blossom. "And I don't want to say, 'cause you'll think I'm just being selfish and a spoilt brat, like I heard cook say 'bout me."

"Why would she say that?" Frodo knew it was often whispered about Merry around the Hall and it annoyed him because he knew it was not Merry's fault.

"Oh, it was just when I accidentally set fire to the hayrick in the upper field." Merry shrugged innocently. "I heard Mamma say something was like looking for a needle in a haystack. So I was trying to help and I went to the haystack with a magnifying glass to see if I could find that needle for her."

Frodo rolled his eyes, but made no comment. He knew the story.

"Anyway, it's the oddest thing Fro, but somehow the glass made the straw catch light and the next thing I knew the whole thing was on fire." Merry peeped in at his sleeping charge and, to make sure the baby did not get any mischievous ideas, continued in a low voice. "I told Papa it was on fire of course, but I said a gigantic dragon had flown down and just breathed on it."

"He didn't believe you, I take it?" Frodo tried to keep a straight face.

"No," Merry still seemed quite surprised at this. "So he sent me to my room before dinner and said I wasn't to have any. But then Grandpa Rory told cook to bring me a tray and I think that's what made her say I was a spoilt brat."

"Oh dear," Frodo sighed. Poor little Merry had been the innocent victim in a power struggle between his father and grandfather from the day he was born. Saradoc was actually a good, realistic parent who knew his son needed a firm hand. But Rorimac would see no wrong in the child and constantly undermined all Saradoc's attempts at discipline. "It's not your fault Merry, well the fire was of course, but Uncle Rory should have let Uncle Sara punish you."

"I know," Merry said glumly. "I only ate half the dinner, so that way I could be half punished and half not punished, so Papa and Grandpapa wouldn't argue over me."

"That was most diplomatic of you," Frodo laughed, mostly to try and cheer Merry out of his gloom. "It was a very tricky situation."

"And that's why I want you to go with Uncle Bilbo."

"What?" Frodo was really surprised now. "But won't you miss me?"

"Oh yes," Merry agreed. "Dreadfully. But just think, when Papa and Grandpapa start to squaddle…

"…squabble…"

"Yes, squabble," Merry never could get his tongue round that word first time. "Start to squaddle over me, I can just ask Grandpapa if I can visit you, because of how much I miss you and I can even manage to cry if I need to. Grandpa Rory always let's me have what I want if I cry. Then we can have the grandest time at Bag End with Uncle Bilbo and hear dragon stories and everything!"

"Really?" Frodo had not actually seen his opportunity as an escape route for Merry. "So you are happy for me to go?"

"Of course Fro!" Merry's eyes shone at the prospect. "I know Uncle Bilbo will let me come when I want to and you and I can have some splendid times away from all the fussing and faddaddle of Brandy Hall!"

{}{}{}{}{}{}

'… _Because advice is all well and fine but…' Bilbo had said. '…you need to know who to ask in the first place!'_

"I see what Bilbo meant now," Frodo thought solemnly. "The right answer often comes from a most unexpected direction! So unless you know who has the answer, you may as well decide for yourself in the first place."

**-TBC-**

**Author's Notes:** Once again, big thanks to Angela, Pippinfan and GW for reviewing – makes such a difference to know people are sitting up and taking notice.

In this chapter you will see a particular relationship that Merry has with his father and grandfather. This is first extrapolated in a story, co-written with Marigold (although I did the Merry chapter) called Bilbo's Gifts. It's on Stories of Arda under Llinos/Marigold.

A slow reflective chapter, but more action next time...

Llinos


	48. Frofro Fro It In!

**Frofro Fro It In!**  
**Chapter 140**

**by Llinoa**  
**beta Marigold**

"Pippin! Pippin! Thank goodness we've found you!"

"Merry!" Pippin whipped his head round in the direction of the shout, still keeping a firm grip on his captive. "Go be Sams too as well!"

"Where's Mr Frodo?" Sam came puffing up alongside Merry. "Is he all right?"

"Fro gone goed put It in fireplace now!" Pippin banged his fist down on the still screeching Gollum's back. "Shutters up most of you rackets you!"

"But what about your – erm half of It?" Merry remembered that that was why Pippin had officially come to Mordor in the first place, although he suspected his cousin might also have been planning to mount his own rescue as well. "Don't you have to throw yours in as well?"

"Not," Pippin explained briefly. "It go long, long stories at we, but is not two and is go be one now. It go be we Eroo do him at we!"

"Um – so you're saying that the divided parts are now one whole again?" Merry needed to verify Pippin's muddled explanation. "It came back together?"

"What we sayed!" Pippin confirmed.

Sam had not uttered a word, but immediately began to head in the direction of the cleft in the mountain, his head down and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Wait! Sam!" Merry gasped with the effort of shouting. "We need to help Pip with this scoundrel. I'm about done in and what if Pip can't hold him much longer?"

"He not got gollumping nowheres!" Pippin declared firmly. "We sittering and sittering on he till Fro comeded back at we's!"

Sam halted abruptly, as if frozen by indecision. His leg faltered and he reached down and batted at his calf. "What was that?"

"What?" Merry could only hear Gollum's commotion. "There's nothing here Sam, only us."

"It… it felt like something curling around my leg," Sam turned back to the others and frowned. "Like a cat, only cold and slick… and… and…"

"And whooshering," supplied Pippin helpfully. He waved his free hand around in a circle. "Likening a winding goes roundabout. We do thinkering it looking for we be here for, but it not… aiiieee!"

"Pippin!" Merry yelped in horror as his small cousin was abruptly lifted into the air by an unseen force.

Pippin spiralled upwards caught in a vortex of energy from the dark spirits that, driven by their relentless Master, suddenly realised, as Pippin's thoughts turned to the Ring, what their purpose might be and that this could be the very incarnation of the object their Lord was seeking.

Before Merry had even recovered his senses, he leapt forward and grabbed Pippin's dangling foot, throwing his weight downwards to try and hold his cousin back. Sam likewise, moved forward, but was pushed aside like a leaf in a whirlwind by nothing that his keen eyes could see. Bloggin, however, managed to grab Merry around the waist and between them they succeeded in pulling the airborne hobbit back to the comparative safety of the ground.

"What the blazes was that?" Sam, winded and shocked, pushed himself up on an elbow and saw that at least Merry and the little orc had managed to restrain Pippin from taking flight. "Hey, no! Come back you wretched blighter!"

To their dismay, the three hobbits saw that Gollum had taken his chance during the melee and was running on all fours towards the rift in the mountain.

Sam was torn, but only for a second. He glanced back at his companions and, seeing that they were already recovered, standing and about to give chase, set off after Gollum. But every step was like running across a newly ploughed field after a heavy rainstorm. Sam felt as if lead weights had been tied to his feet; in fact he looked down to check that they hadn't.

Merry and Pippin and even Bloggin were similarly handicapped. A dark swirling mist was beginning to encircle them and ice-cold ghost fingers wrapped around their bodies, pulling at arms and legs and making walking, let alone running, impossible.

"This is worse than trying to push through the snows on Caradhras," gasped Merry. "And why didn't it slow Gollum down?"

"Frodo!" Sam shouted at the top of his lungs. To his horror, Gollum had sped away at an incredible speed, seeming not to touch the ground. At least he could try to warn his Master. "Frodo – Mister Frodo – throw It in now! Before that wretch gets his stinking hands on It!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"_Frodo – Mister Frodo – throw It in now! Before that wretch gets his stinking hands on It!"_

Frodo was startled from his reverie by Sam's urgent call. Before the actual words sank in, he was jolted by the fact that Samwise was even within earshot. But it was only when he turned abruptly to find the source of the shout that the words made sense.

Gollum was hurtling towards him on all fours, snarling and foaming at the mouth, obviously quite insane by now and, equally obviously, intent upon capturing the Ring for himself.

Frodo sprung to his feet and managed to sidestep the furious creature's first charge. He fumbled for the Ring and clutched It tightly in his right hand, whilst swinging out with his other fist at Gollum and catching him a firm left hook just as he turned to attack the hobbit once more.

Gollum somersaulted with the blow and rounded on Frodo again, shrieking in fury, "Mine! Mine! It's Mine!" His voice rose to an hysterical wail. "Give me my Precious!" His next charge took Frodo by the shoulders and they both fell to the ground, rolling over and over, kicking and scrabbling, all the time moving perilously closer to the lip of the seething river of fire below.

They halted on the very brink of the chasm, Gollum straddled Frodo, his bony knees digging into his rival's belly, both hands clutched around the hobbit's clenched right fist as he tried to prise open his fingers.

Frodo's hand had been badly burned when the faux Ring had coalesced with its Master and now Frodo could feel his grip weakening with the force of Gollum's frantic tugging.

In desperation he fell to a trick Sam had explained to him, for use when in the tightest corner, not one he approved of, but this was not the time for a fair fight. He locked his left arm around Gollum's neck to keep his head in place and butted his forrid into the creature's nose with a force borne out of panic.

The blow was not wholly accurate, but caught Gollum half on the nose and equally in the mouth. Nevertheless, it was effective enough and Frodo felt the pressure on his middle lessen as the creature rolled over, grasping his nose as puce coloured blood spurted between his skeletal fingers.

"Sméagol! Sméagol, listen to Master," Frodo used the brief respite in a last ditch attempt to reason with the creature. "You can't have the Ring! Neither of us can – It breaks everyone who touches It – It's broken you, just as It has broken me!"

"No!" Gollum squealed through his blood-soaked fingers. "Precious saves us – makes us lives forever and ever!"

"But makes you live Its life, not yours!" Frodo reasoned. "You may be breathing and walking and talking, but you're not living – not really!"

Even as he spoke the words, Frodo realised that this was not entirely the truth. Yes, the Ring had certainly destroyed Gollum's life, but Bilbo had lived with It in contentment for many years and in the end he had let It go.

"That's it!" Frodo suddenly realised what it was that Bilbo would have advised. He had shown him, not in words, but with his own actions. Bilbo had let the Ring go, even after harbouring It for so long – in the end he had just walked away from It.

But, just as Frodo's resolve turned to what he knew he must do, Gollum sprang once more. The creature gave a mighty leap from where he was crouched on the pitted rock. He hit the hobbit high in the chest, knocking them to the edge of the abyss. The momentum turned them both head over heels and together they tumbled over the rim of the chasm.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Stop struggling," Merry had realised that fighting against the invisible force was somehow making it stronger. "Try to clear your minds or think about something far away, think of the Shire. Think of home, we'll be there by autumn, you'll see."

"I-I can't," Sam mumbled, his teeth clenched with effort. "Can only think on Mister Frodo."

"Come on Sam!" Merry desperately tried to think of something to distract his companions. "Autumn – home by Halimath." Suddenly an old harvest-time song leapt into Merry's head. He started with a shaking voice, which grew stronger with the comforting words:

"When holly berries turn crimson red  
And the Sun goes early to her bed,  
Summer meadows fade to umber,  
The squirrel hoards for his long slumber.  
Then is the time for Hobbit hands  
To gather the goodness from the lands."

Sam gradually relaxed and with quavering tone took the next verse…

"Before the silver Moon grows cold  
Together we'll harvest fields of gold.  
Apples, plums and gooseberries sweet,  
The ripened barley and fattened wheat.  
Then merrily we'll brew and bake  
Amber ale and golden cake!"

Pippin, who had been sporadically voicing his own muddled version, finished…

"…Then Merry he go have and make  
Too much he ale and stolen cake!"

"Two mucky ales, then stole a cake!" Bloggin echoed. Most of the song meant nothing to him, except for Pippin's last jumbled words, which hit a certain chord.

Gradually the icy fingers seemed to fade and evaporate back into the fissures and crevices of the rock and hobbits and orc alike found they could move again. Hesitantly the hobbits began to move towards the opening in the rock, still humming, or in Merry's case whistling, the tune of the jolly song to keep their minds from wandering into dangerous areas.

Bloggin plonked his backside down on the rock, thoroughly confused and frightened by what had happened. He closed his eyes and attempted to explain it to Sniggin. _"bliggil glooog ig og plued puppup ogormog og"_

{}{}{}{}{}{}

"So Bloggin is telling you that Little Pip told New Little Pip," – Gandalf glanced at Éowyn. "We really must get these orcs to sort the hobbits' names out." The wizard looked carefully at Sniggin again, "he told him that the two are now one and that Eru did it?"

"That s'right yer 'Onour Sir," Sniggin shrugged. "Blog says he dun't know what it means an all, but that's what they says."

"Well that is surprising, but good," Gandalf wondered who or what had actually intervened and wished he or Legolas could communicate directly with the hobbits, but it was far too perilous at the moment. "What happened next?"

"Blog says," Sniggin reported dutifully, "Little Pip flew up in the air and the sheep noise thing escapered."

"That doesn't sound good," Éowyn frowned at Gandalf in enquiry. The wizard raised his hand for silence.

"Then New Little Pip and Blog too, pulled Little Pip back down by his feet and Mr Sandwich felled over, but he shouted _'Frofro fro it in!'_"

"Go on," Gandalf was tense but trying not to frighten the line of communication.

"Then they all got tied up by somefink what wasn't there and Mr New Little Pip singed a song and Mr Sandwich did too and then it went away again and now Blog is sitting a' tellin' me this. And what's he to do now Mister Wizzard Sir?"

Gandalf did not entirely understand what had happened, he feared much had been lost in translation. But he was clear on Bloggin's next course of action. "Tell him to follow the hobbits, make sure they _'fro it in'_ and then he and they should get out of there as swiftly as…"

"…an orc with a bellyful of red ant stew?" Sniggin suggested helpfully.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "That will do nicely."

{}{}{}{}{}{}

As soon as Sam's feet touched the ground he sped off in the direction of the fissure as if all the deprivations and suffering of his trudge through Mordor were mere details and not to be taken seriously. Bloggin was now only a few paces behind, mostly urged on by his brother, but also less injured than Merry or Pippin, who were doggedly jogging after Sam, but were handicapped by their battle scars and wounds.

"Wh-what happened to your finger, Pip?" Merry, in spite of the frantic urgency of the last few minutes and the rush to get to Frodo, could not help noticing his cousin's injury.

"Oh, it be when we Rings gotted be One agains. What is go happed at you blackeded eyes?" Pippin countered with equal concern. "And is you go getted a newly nose that be biggerer?"

"Ask our little orc friend Bloggin!" Merry gasped with the effort of talking and running. "He didn't like my bedside manner."

"Mr Frodo! Frodo! Noooo!" Sam's shout echoed through the vast cavern, even above the cacophony of the seething river of fire below.

As Merry and Pippin approached they could see Samwise sprawled lengthwise over the rim of the chasm in the mountain. He seemed to be reaching down to something he could not quite get hold of.

Pippin clasped his hands over his mouth and stood frozen in horror, too petrified to look.

Merry flung himself down beside Sam, one arm over the gardener's trembling shoulder. "Sam, what's happened? Where is he? Where's Frodo?"

"D...d...down there!" Sam pointed a shaking finger at the angry molten lava below. "Th-they... Mr Frodo and that wretched Gollum! They were fighting... and... and they both fell in!"

**TBC**

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to those of you who reviewed (the usual suspects! :D) I do appreciate it. To the rest of you - I hope you're liking it anyway, although a little feedback just saying "great" or "rubbish" would be good. The counter shows that lots of people are reading and coming back and reading again - be nice if you stopped to say "hi!"

Angela had sent me a Magnificent picture of the lads battling Shelob - I'll be posting it to my lj, so do stop by and take a look.


	49. Comprendre, C'est Pardoner

**Comprendre, C'est Pardoner**  
**Chapter 141**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

Frodo made no sound as he fell; Gollum's hands were still scrabbling at his neck even as they plummeted towards certain death, managing eventually to grab the Ring and clutch It to his bosom with a wide and triumphant leer.

The hobbit felt his mind begin to drift and then he was suddenly no longer a part of himself, but rather a disembodied thought, hovering over the fires of Mount Doom. Time stood still as he watched Frodo Baggins (that name seemed familiar) and the strange emaciated creature, wrapped together in a struggling melee of arms and legs, falling into a crimson and black void.

"Why do you want It Sméagol?" He heard Frodo ask. "You can never own It, It owns you. Even as we die, you still have one last chance to redeem yourself. Try to remember Sméagol, remember how you felt before you even saw the Ring. Remember how it was not to be possessed by this Thing!"

"But we wants It!" The creature moaned. "We has to have It!"

"No! No!" Frodo, watching himself, wondered why he sounded so desperate. Was it pity? "It's not too late," he pleaded, "you can still deny It and die in peace."

"Never!" Sméagol was sobbing with anguish. "We killed for It! Don't you understands Master? We gave everything for It. Can't go back! Can't be me again! Can't go to the good place! Déagol will be waiting for us!"

"It is true you murdered Déagol," Frodo's disembodied mind speculated vaguely how he knew this – was it Gandalf that had told him? "And that was a wicked thing to do. But you were weak and the call of the Ring was powerful – too powerful for young Sméagol! You did not wish Déagol dead – did you?"

"No! No!" Gollum wailed, "Sméagol only had to have the Precious! Déagol wouldn't give It to us! Had to have It, so we strangled him!"

"You did that for evil and wicked reasons!" Even Frodo was surprised by what he said next. "But think of the dreadful life that you saved him from. If you had not ended his life there and then, he would have been enslaved by the Ring and he would have lived the terrible life you have lived – so, in a way, you saved him from himself."

Gollum did not answer for a moment. It was quite apparent that this way of thinking had not occurred to him before. As he had sat in his lonely cave under the mountains for many long ages, he had reasoned that Déagol ought to have given the Ring to him. It had turned up just so as to be a present. It _was_ his birthday present and so on. Never in his long years of deprivation and suffering had he reasoned that perhaps he had recognised from the start what a burden the Precious would be and that he had saved Déagol from endless misery by taking It on himself.

The watching Frodo was vaguely amused by this argument. Of course any villain will find an excuse or validation for his behaviour, if he is clever enough – it did not make their actions right and proper. Nevertheless, it did help such people to find peace and perhaps some chance to forgive themselves. For, when all is said and done, no one, not even the wickedest and most depraved orc or dragon, is without hopes and aspirations and most find it difficult, if not impossible, to deny their inherent nature. Fortune smiles on those who are born rich or fair of face or clever or talented. What of the rest? Should they be condemned for lack of wit or morals?

"We did!" Gollum finally allowed the message of hope that Frodo had given him to sink in. "Will Déagol forgives us? Will Grandmother understands why we did it?"

"You can find out," Frodo heard himself say. "But the only way is to repent now. Give up the Ring, let me throw It into the fires and lust after It no more."

It occurred to watching Frodo that they should have both plunged into the fiery river ages ago, but that they were being held up, buoyed upon a mysterious force that was not letting them fall. Whether that force was for good or evil he had not been able to tell.

But suddenly, as he felt Sméagol begin to relent, to see that there was even hope for him yet, he knew! The force began to whip them around in a fury and abruptly they were thrown against the cliff side above the blistering heat of the fires below.

The shock of the impact brought Frodo unexpectedly back into his body and he gasped with pain as he felt his ribs crack against the rocks.

But the force still did not let them fall. Slowly but inexorably, he and Gollum were dragged up the side of the cliff until he could see the anxious faces of Sam and Merry above. Eventually, willing hands reached out to pluck them both from the very brink of death.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sauron was torn. Although powerful and growing in might with every victory, He yet did not command the supremacy to influence all matters at the same time. That filthy upstart, the so-called heir of Elendil, was a cunning foe, for all he had recklessly thrown his pitiful army against His own overwhelming numbers.

Sauron knew that there was a deeper and more pressing motive for this. It was a distraction, a device, to turn his thought away from the more urgent matter of finally achieving His ultimate goal – the One Ring!

His attention was focused entirely upon the battle of Dagorlad. But He had set his ghostly minions, those tormented souls that had defied Him in life and so perished beneath His hand and remained locked within His realm, to rise up at His bidding, to seek for that which He desired above all things.

The tormented wights and wraiths did not know exactly what their Master was seeking, but sensed It was an object of great power and destruction. Although they could not look upon corporeal objects, they could sense the thoughts of any who had touched and felt the pull of Sauron's desire. There was a frequency, an emanation which marked that soul for all time – and this is what they sought.

They did their Master's bidding with bitterness and resentment, but were condemned to obey Him as long as He held sway over the land where they perished. With hatred in what remained of their being, they had been summoned from their exile and imbued with the power to hold and keep any being that knew of the thing Sauron was seeking.

They were close now, so close that Sauron was torn from the assault upon the Black Gate to turn His attention to their urgent calls. "Master! Master!" They cried. "Creatures are at Orodruin! They attempt to destroy that which you seek!"

Sauron was torn no more. If these _**creatures**_ should succeed in casting His Ring into the flames of Orodruin It would be unmade – and He with It. They must be stopped without delay! The wights and wraithlike servants would not be able to touch the Ring – these beings were not incarnate as were the Ringwraiths. All they could do physically was to exert their combined force against the living, and then only at his decree.

"**BRING THEM TO ME!"** He shot the command to all His unwilling ghostly slaves. "**ALL THAT HAVE TOUCHED THE ONE RING – I GIVE YOU THE POWER TO SEE INTO THEIR MINDS – FIND ALL THAT HAVE LAID A HAND UPON MY POSSESSION AND BRING THEM HERE!"**

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Sméagol, give It to me." Frodo held out his hand. He was panting with exertion and clutching his side where his ribs had been cracked, but his demeanour was calm and forgiving and he waited patiently for Gollum to respond.

Pippin limped to Frodo's side and, without a word, put his arms around his cousin's waist, rested his head on Frodo's shoulder and closed his eyes. Bloggin sat on the cave floor, his eyes and mouth gaping wide.

"Frodo, have you gone mad?" Merry, also staggering with exhaustion after the effort of pulling his cousin and the snivelling wretch they called Gollum back to the relative safety of the edge of the volcano abyss, raised his fist to clout the now blubbing creature crouched on the ground.

Sam was holding Gollum tightly by his arm and tried to grab the wretch's hand to pry the Ring from him.

"No Sam! No Merry!" Frodo held up his hand to stay their actions. "Let him decide."

"Masssster!" Sméagol sobbed, his resolve at turmoil with his addiction, learned and practiced over so many ages. "Will they forgives us? Déagol? The grandmother? You? Will you forgives us?"

"I will," Frodo said quickly. "And perhaps that is enough. This could be your only chance Sméagol. Either give me the Ring, or throw It in yourself."

"But It dursent lets us Master!" Sméagol wailed. "We came back, something is stopping us!"

"Maybe if you throw just the Ring in," suggested Merry. "Perhaps whatever it is won't be able to stop that!"

There was a sibilant stillness in which only the rasping breathing of hobbit and orc could be heard above the distant roar of the angry miasma below. Gollum was panting and looking frantically from Frodo to the Ring in his bony hand. Sam quietly let go of the creature and stood patiently back to see what would happen. He had little faith in the wretch, but, then again, this lack was outweighed by his confidence in his Master.

A billow of pressure was building up in the cave, they all felt it. The force which had lifted Frodo and Gollum from the abyss was reforming and gaining new strength.

"We can't throws the Precious in the fire!" Gollum whined. He crawled on all fours and threw himself at Frodo's feet, grasping the hobbit around his legs. He looked up at Frodo with fear, loathing and adoration. His voice sunk to a whispering sob. "Master you takes It, Sméagol gives the Precious to Master and Sméagol be forgiven."

Untangling his skeletal arm from Frodo's legs, Gollum held the Ring out to Frodo.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Blog says the sheep noise thing is wanting to give the other hobbit – the one he chased..." Sniggin furrowed his scaly brow as he searched for a name.

"Frodo?" Gandalf suggested.

"Yers," Sniggin agreed, "Frofro. It wants to give him a present or sumfink."

The account of events inside the chamber of Orodruin as relayed by Bloggin, via Legolas to Sniggin and then to Gandalf, had been muddled to the point of being incomprehensible. As far as the Wizard could ascertain there had been a certain amount of fighting, followed by some interesting and unprecedented flying; rounded off with a reasonably exciting rescue. After that there had been a lot of talking, none of which Bloggin had understood and consequently found difficult to share.

At first he thought it was something to do with _ring-throwing_. Bloggin knew that was a game that orc sergeants sometimes played, with quoits made from circles of rope, but it had seemed to Bloggin that this was a strange time and place to want to indulge in gambling. Gandalf had told Sniggin to reassure his brother that the wizard knew what they were talking about.

"Seems like it's a bit o' jul-lorry," Sniggin ascertained. "Only the thing wants Frofro to chuck it away for him! Blog 'n me dursen't understand," Sniggin looked at Gandalf with an inquiring frown. "Why'd anyone want to chuck anyfink away?"

Gandalf did not have the time or pressing need to explain the concept right then, but felt he owed the patient orc some clarification. "Well it happens occasionally that people just don't want things any more – that they are more of a burden than they are worth." Then added with an ironic smile, "or perhaps they throw things away so that small orcs can scavv them!"

This last explanation seemed to satisfy Sniggin the most, but he still shook his head in wonder at the idea, "...but jul-lorry!"

"Never mind the reason," Gandalf's anxiety was not disguised. "Just..." The Wizard's instruction was abruptly interrupted by the breathless arrival of Drâmym.

"Mithrandir!" The rider paused to grab his breath. "I come in haste for I have urgent news from Lord Aragorn."

"Speak man!" Gandalf waved away Drâmym's anxious glance towards Sniggin. "What is occurring?"

"Without reason that any could see," Drâmym exclaimed, "the Nazgûl turned and fled and vanished into Mordor's shadows. Many reported hearing a sudden terrible call out of the Dark Tower itself; and even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt seemed to clutch their hearts; their hands shook and their limbs were loosed. They lost the will to fight on and now the forces of the West hold the field!"

"What?" Gandalf realised at once what was amiss. "Then we are winning the battle of the Black Gate? This is terrible news!"

The Wizard turned back to Sniggin and grabbed the nervous orc by the shoulder. "Tell Bloggin that Frodo must take the jewellery and cast It into the fire now! Tell him... 'They are coming!'"

-TBC-

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you GW, Angela, Poppy Muddyfoot, Marigold, Pippinfan, Merrythehobbit, Isilme for your recent reviews – oh and of course Errol, who has sound advice for those wishing to communicate with Pippin.

Poppy is a most unquenchable hobbit and has many questions to be answered – so here they are. (The answers that is!)

_What have you got against Faramir? He is acting more like the incompetent son that Denethor believed he was, than the competent Steward he will eventually become._  
He's just in love – he'll get better.

_Hm, I wonder what great prize Sauron promised to his Mouth?_  
Um – I think it was Isengard, but I could be wrong.

_What sinister spectres and spirits? Did I overlook them when I read RotK, or did you dream them up?  
_I dreamed them up.

_Is Pippin's speech as hard to write as it is to understand when I read it?_  
I don't know – how hard do you find it to read?

_What's a liquorice allsort? I don't think we have those in Oklahoma._  
No, but you should! They are a v. famous sweet you get in the UK. I've put some pictures on my lj -user name llinos – so you can see.

Speaking of my lj, readers might want to go there, not just to see a liquorice allsort, but also to have a look at Angela's wonderful illustrations! Her picture of Shelob is stunning and there are others on her own lj, which I have (hopefully) linked to my latest post.


	50. Factum Est!

**Factum Est**  
**Chapter 142**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

"Don't trust him!" Sam stepped forward, Sting drawn and ready. "It's a trick! He's up to something."

Frodo hesitated at the warning. Sam was spot-on as usual, something was wrong about this. He had hoped his entreaties would touch Gollum, but he had not expected him to come round so quickly or to actually offer the Ring to him."You know I'll throw It into the fire Sméagol – you want me to do that?"

"Yesss! Yesss Masster!" Gollum squeaked. "Takes It! Takes It now, before Sméagol changes his mind!"

"Mr Frofro sir..." Bloggin began, but was cut short by the others.

"Just do it Frodo!" Merry could not believe after all this time and the struggles they had all been through that his cousin was hesitating.

"Is not... is somewhereings go wrong," Pippin put his hand on Merry's arm, as his cousin looked like he was about to grab the Ring himself. "Not knowering – just feeling!"

"No!" Bloggin shouted above the others to make himself heard. "The Lord Wizzard says, throw It! He's says They is coming!"

"That's it!" Sam exclaimed as the thought dawned on him. "Them Nazgûl is coming. They're going to take whoever has It. That's his game!"

Merry and Pippin both looked fearfully behind them, expecting to see winged beasts carrying Sauron's servants into the very Cracks of Doom. The idea of another encounter with the Nazgûl was enough to strike fear into their hearts at the mere suggestion of being recaptured.

"Masster quick!" Gollum pawed at Frodo's cloak. "He'll take It and take us both. Push Sméagol in! If your hand won't takes It – push Sméagol in the fire! We are done for... finished! We wants to go with the Precious!"

Frodo's head whipped around towards Merry and Pippin. Merry stepped forward but Pippin caught him quickly by the shoulder. "No and it no Mer, Fro got go do decidering best it he got know."

"Take It Mr Frodo!" Sam's voice rose to a panic. "Just take It and throw It in and be done with It!"

"I _**shall**_ take It!" Frodo made his decision quickly now. He seized the Ring from Gollum and held It aloft, rolling the gold circle around his thumb and forefinger. "It is mine – my burden! My Precious!"

"What's he doing?" Merry whispered to Pippin, anxious not to do the wrong thing, but worried at Frodo's behaviour.

"Not knowering..." Pippin was uncertain too. He cast a sidelong glance at Gollum and saw a shrewd smirk spread across the wizened face. "It he..." Pippin pointed at the creature. "He thinkering Fro not go to do... he thinkering Fro keep and keep then no Ring be get brokened!"

"Yesss Master!" Gollum pawed at Frodo again. "It belongs to Masster! Master wear It now and Sméagol be his slave forever and ever!"

"Yes Sméagol," Frodo patted the fawning creature on the shoulder. "You think that would be good."

"No Frodo!" Merry began to advance again, but Sam was closer and, with unaccustomed anger screwing up his eyes, stepped towards the pair.

"You're wrong," Frodo's face hardened as he spoke. "You're all wrong! My friends think it is too great a wrench for me to destroy It, and you Sméagol," he looked sorrowfully at Gollum. "You hoped I would not be able to do it, but you're all wrong!"

"Naarrgh!" Without warning Gollum leapt upon Frodo, snapping and biting and growling like a mad dog. Both Sam and Merry tried to grab Frodo's assailant, but the combatants were rolling over and over, first one on top and then the other. Bloggin looked frantically around, not knowing whether he should interfere and Pippin held his breath as he uttered a silent plea to all kindly Beings that nothing awful would happen.

Suddenly Frodo let out a scream of agony and the others saw his body go limp. As the struggling had stopped, Sam managed to grab hold of Gollum and, as he pulled him off his Master, the others could see blood dripping from his mouth and something clenched in his spiky teeth – it was a finger!

"Why you filthy little..." Merry's exclamation was cut short as Frodo pushed himself up with his left hand and opened the palm of his damaged, haemorrhaging right to reveal the Ring still there.

"Now you've settled it once and for all Sméagol," Frodo, his eyes tight with pain, spoke through an ironic half smile. "Now I can never wear the Ring again anyway!"

He leaned forward from where he sat and with a cry of "Be gone you foul thing!" flung It as hard as he could into the roiling turbulence below.

"My Precioussss!" Gollum spat Frodo's finger from his mouth and let out a terrible shriek. He pitched himself forward, wrenching out of Sam's grasp, but as the benighted creature turned he plunged into Sam, who had stood firm, Sting still clasped in his hand.

Sam did not intend what happened next. He brought the sword down to fend off Gollum but, rather than slink away or try to deflect the weapon, he grabbed it with both hands and threw himself forward onto the blade with a cry of anguish and absolution.

Sting impaled Sméagol through his heart and, as Sam drew the bloodied sword back from the creature, Gollum with his last breath, let a smile trace across his wizened face as he whispered, "Thank you Samwise, thank you Master." And with that he rolled over the edge of the abyss and into the river of fire, following his Precious to their final doom.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_'Pippin! Pippin! My dearest, are you sure it's safe?' _

_'go is must to be legolas! fro putted we ring in fireplace! so darking lord must go be finereshed?'_

_'did legolas! we seed he'_

_'Merry?'_

_'is'_

_'Sniggin? Bloggin?'_

_'gloop?'_

_'what you is going blog in you head legolas? what for is snig?'_

_'It is a long story Merry – do not worry yourself about it now.'_

_'ahh and we thinkering he go talkthink at blog'_

_'That is exactly right Pippin. And Sniggin, his brother, is translating for me.'_

_'but not needing now legolas! it got be safe we talkering!'_

_'One moment my dears. Sniggin, you can withdraw now, I don't want so many people in my head and...'_

_'we not __**peoples**__ legolas!'_

_'I know Pippin, just wait. Sniggin, ask Lady Éowyn to join with me please.'_

Sniggin gingerly lifted his hands away from Legolas's face and looked up at Gandalf. "Please Mister Wizzard Sir," he began tentatively, "err Mister Elf, err Sir Legolast, he wants to talk to the Lady, please Sir."

"What is it?" Gandalf could tell from the orc's manner that something was amiss. "What has happened?"

"It's Mister Frofro Meister," Sniggin wrung his hands nervously. "He put the jul-lorry... the ring in the fire river like you said. Only..."

"Yes?" Gandalf was pointedly keeping his patience in check.

"The sheep noise thing – it bit Mister Frofro's finger orf and then Mister Sandwich killeded him."

"What, Frodo?"

"No! No! Sir," Sniggin saw the Wizard's face turn a strange colour. "No, the sheep noise thing – and it fell in after the jul-lorry!"

"And now," Éowyn's eyes were closed as she concentrated on connecting with Legolas. "Merry and Pippin are telling Legolas – and me actually – all about it! Frodo has succeeded – Sauron's Ring is destroyed!"

Gandalf said nothing. He lifted the tent flap and strode outside. For several tense minutes the Wizard stood silently scanning the skies, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of a blood-red sun.

With what seemed close to agitation for Gandalf, he turned back into the tent and gasped at Éowyn. "Stop! Tell the hobbits and Legolas to stop talking."

"Wh-what? Why Mithrandir?" Éowyn looked up in shock, the smile on her face quickly fading with the unexpected order. "What's wrong?"

"Now! Make them stop!" Gandalf repeated. "Nothing has changed! The Ring cannot have been destroyed. I do not know why the fires of Mount Doom have failed to put an end to Sauron – but that is the case. The hobbits need to stop mind-speaking and to get out of there as fast as possible."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Frodo!" Pippin squawked the name out, confused and frightened by Legolas's last message. "We... you go getted no do in now..."

"Something's gone terribly wrong," Merry took over, realising that Pippin was never going to get to the point with his muddled speech. "It hasn't worked!"

"What?" Frodo was still in shock from his bitten off finger. "I don't understand – it must have worked!"

"You hold still now Mister Frodo," Sam was attempting to bind the bleeding stump on Frodo's hand with fabric torn from Merry's shirt. "Now I know this isn't too clean, but at least it should stop..."

"Sam, there's no time!" Merry hitched both hands under Frodo's armpits and hoisted him to his feet. "Legolas says we have to go – now!"

"B-but where?" Frodo leaned back against Merry, his voice and body shaking. "If it hasn't worked what are we to do now? Where should we go?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted. "But we should probably get out of here. Maybe hide among the rocks outside and then make our way back down to Smagnude, he has horses."

"You think Sauron will find us here?" Sam quickly tied off his makeshift bandage and took Frodo's arm, lifting the hobbit's weight off Merry. "Or maybe those Black Riders? Those Nazgûl?"

"It's what Mister Elf said before," Bloggin reported. "He said, or that is me bruvver said, 'They're coming' but I dursen't know fer sure what 'They' is."

"Right! Well let's not wait for whoever 'They' are." Merry decided.

Together, Frodo leaning on Sam for support; Merry and Pippin leaning on each other and Bloggin bringing up the rear, they limped from the cave into the darkening air.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The windborne susurration grew malevolently around the rocks and skittered across the ash strewn road, seeking, sniffing and listening. Many of the tormented souls of which it was made were driven by terror of their Dark Master, the One who held them in thrall, forever tortured for displeasing Him. But some were harnessed by Sauron in other ways. The promise of freedom, of being allowed to finally die and pass over into whatever purgatory they truly deserved. The spirits of those put to death by Sauron hoped this time they could escape from the long dark years of lying beneath stone, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, yet all the while aware of their own existence – their own agony.

Now They were becoming a single entity, a combined thought process, united in the harmony of needing to please their persecutor, to find that which He had commanded them to seek.

They could not pry deeply into thoughts, but Sauron had now given them the ability to recognise the reverberation of any being that had touched His Ring, no matter how briefly, an echo would still be there, such was the power of His greatest work.

Mortals were hurrying over the rocks, limping and propping one another up as they staggered towards the road. They had touched these before, when their power had been less, before it combined, when the mortals were able to distract their thoughts and break free from their control.

They reached out again, touching first the smallest one. They felt confusion, a bewildered fear, but there – there it was – a small resonance of their Master's desire! They moved to his companion.

This one was similar and yet quite different. There was fear, but it was tempered with a furious determination to protect what was his, even if it meant his own destruction. But there was no echo.

As the invisible tendrils enclosed around the third being, they almost recoiled with the shockwave! This was the one they had found in the cave and attempted to carry away as he struggled with an even stranger being. They had not been strong enough then, still too separate and dissipated and had only succeeded in slamming him against the caldera wall. The bizarre creature this one had fought with was gone.

But the stink of their Master's craving was thick upon this one, his whole body reeked of it. There was little else They could sense. Now there was another being holding him up and the reverberation of the stench was so strong it seemed to have seeped into the one who was supporting him, almost carrying him along.

By exploring more thoroughly, They realised this was not so. Although his whole being emanated a fierce loyalty and devotion to the other, this one had also touched and even borne their pitiless Master's work. They had also felt this mortal before, but it had escaped their clutches, along with the determined creature, by singing.

They paid no attention to the bedraggled orc that trailed behind the other mortals. Its mind would be non-existent and incapable of defying the Dark Lord.

"Merry! Mr Merry, please slow down, will you!" Sam was not only shouldering most of Frodo's limp form, but was also clutching the stump of his master's finger, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Mr Frodo is fair done in and I'm not much better."

"I'm sorry Sam," Merry halted and, shielding his eyes, scanned the skies for any sign of danger. "We should keep out of sight though if we're going to rest." He turned his attention to their immediate surroundings. "Let's get him under that rock outcrop there. It at least might offer some protection."

As Merry helped Sam to half drag and half carry Frodo to the shelter, both Pippin and Bloggin backed after them, fearfully looking all around for any signs of imminent danger. Suddenly Pippin's keen eyes alighted on something in the sky moving towards them at great speed.

Immediately Pippin's optimistic nature made him hope. The eagles? Had Gandalf sent the eagles to rescue them, just as they had Bilbo all those years ago?

"Eagles go be coming! Eagles go be..." Almost as soon as he began to shout the words, Pippin realised his mistake.

**-TBC-**

**Author's Notes:  
**Once again, many thanks for the reviews – can't say that often enough!

**whiterider**: Nice to see you here, thanks for the review and of course there's no prob with you printing out Recap – just hope your printer doesn't mind!

**Fantasy Fan;** Stop worrying about Faramir, he'll come in to his own yet, promise – you just have to be patent. As to the Ring – well that's a real wait and see!

**Pippinfan**: Hope the move went okay and that your new house has no cracks of doom in it! Glad you like reading the evil side, even if you don't like writing it!

**GW**: Happy to surprise you – quite a tricky manoeuvre that!

**Lauderdale**: Thank you for the avalanche of reviews – always enjoy being inundated with those!

One thing I may not have described properly though. The "spirit" holding Frodo and Gollum over the CoD, was not the scion of Eru, he's long gone. It was actually the "wraiths and wights" in thrall to Sauron – you know, the same guys that were encumbering the other hobbits at the same time outside. Their power is building slowly and they're not too sure what they're meant to be doing right now – just looking for anything that's touched something that their Master wants. That clear? No – I thought not. They're confused, you're confused, I'm confused – we're all doomed!

Anyway – sorry for the confusion!

Heddwch!

Llinos


	51. In That Sleep of Death

**In That Sleep of Death  
****Chapter 143**

**by Llinos  
****beta Marigold**

Bloggin stood open-mouthed; his poor brain almost exploding with demands for information and his incredulous eyes overloaded with what was happening around him.

First of all, Mr Little Pip had begun shouting something about eagles, which was terrifying enough in itself, as he knew that eagles were predatory monsters that would kill a small orc like him just for sport. Then Mr New Little Pip had grabbed him round the neck, almost strangling him as he knocked him off his feet and dragged him backwards.

Bloggin almost protested at this rough treatment until he realised that all the hobbits were attempting to take cover beneath a rocky outcrop and that Mr New Little Pip had pulled him into their hidey-hole to protect him from whatever it was that may or may not be eagles.

"M-merry... how it be... they go finding..."

"I don't know, we must all just keep really still," Merry had wedged himself in front of Frodo and was hugging Pippin as close to him as was possible.

"This shouldn't be happening!" Sam growled. "We done it all, just like Mr Gandalf said. What else is there?"

Even as he spoke, all four hobbits and Bloggin felt the susurration begin again. Quietly at first, then building to a rustling murmur, it agitated around them, probing and whispering. Above them the seven remaining Nazgûl circled ominously.

"What are they doing?" Frodo could not see clearly from his cramped position and was still very groggy. "Do you think they can see us?"

"Noooo! Pippin! Come back!" Merry gasped as his cousin either wrenched himself, or was pulled from his protective grip and rolled out into the open.

Merry and Sam both scrambled from their hiding place, falling over each other to try to grab Pippin from whatever had hold of him. The sibilant sounds seemed to become excited and Sam was certain he could make out words. _"sshhhh iss remembersss, thissss one hassss tousssched..."_

The wind picked up, the pulsating noise rising in pitch to an incessant whine, and abruptly all three were lifted up and swirled helplessly around, like leaves in a whirlwind. Frodo lurched on to all fours and began to crawl towards the melee, trying to force his battered body forward to stop what was happening. Bloggin, sensing he should do something, dashed out from under the rocks and ran around after the hobbits, waving his arms in the air, too panicked to try to communicate with his brother what was happening.

"Frodo! Don't move! Stay there!" Sam's voice was whipped away by the spiralling wind, and even if Frodo had heard him and had obeyed, it was doubtful that it would have made any difference.

The tumult of spirits and wraiths distended to encompass both Frodo and Bloggin and they were relentlessly caught up in the spinning spectral cyclone; lifted higher and higher as the Nazgûl circled down to meet them.

All four hobbits and the little orc were buffeted helplessly back and forth, their arms and legs flailing against the unseen force that held them. At the same time a dread fear washed over them as the Nazgûl wheeling above, like ever-present vultures waiting for a dying animal to breathe its last, radiated their deadly Black Breath. Merry felt his right arm deaden with pain and Frodo tried to clutch at his shoulder as a wire of agony shot through him.

Desperately Merry reached out and attempted to grab hold of Pippin. "_At least_," he thought, "_if we are to be taken by the Ringwraiths, to meet our doom, we can go together._" Just as their fingers touched, Merry suddenly felt as if his whole body had turned to stone and he plummeted to the ground.

Although the breath had been knocked out of him by the fall, Merry rolled over hoping to see the others also released from the eerie wind and was met by the falling body of Bloggin, who landed on top of him with a sickening thud!

"Gerroff! Quick, where are they?" Merry frantically pushed Bloggin to one side and, fuelled only by adrenaline; all his faltering strength having been used up long ago, lurched to his knees.

The fearsome wind had at least subsided and all seemed eerily quiet. There was no sign of Frodo, Sam or Pippin. The only sound came from the screeching cries of the Nazgûl as they flew swiftly away towards Barad-dûr – that and a tiny echo in his mind.

_'merrrrryyy! love you!'_

Bloggin whimpered in fear as the remaining hobbit, his face a contortion of grief and fury, fell forward onto the ash-strewn ground and began to hammer his fists on the rock. "Nooooooo! Pippin! No! No! No!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Frodo felt happier than he had ever felt before in his whole life. He was not sure why this particular day should feel so wonderful; there had been many others just like it and he was in no doubt there would be many more. Endless happy days spiralling joyfully into infinity; with an inexhaustible supply of now! But this particular day had a certain magical quality about it.

It had started early with a quick breakfast in the nursery, snatching a piece of bread and butter, just to keep Merry-lad company. Merry had assured him that today was the day they would catch the big old pike that haunted Bucklebury Pond. His grandfather Rory had just bought him a new rod and line and the little lad assured Frodo he could have first 'go' on it!

Second breakfast was taken in his mother's little parlour; strong, sweet tea and a runny boiled egg and soldiers. His mother still fussed over him like a faunt, but Frodo never minded. The egg had even proved to have a double yolk.

Then, with a large picnic basket, bursting at the seams, Frodo had set off with his mother and father and Merry and his parents, Uncle Sara and Aunt Esmie, in the phaeton to Bucklebury Pond. The Pond was more like a large lake; being formed by a backwater from the Brandywine and was deep, cool and luscious.

Frodo and Merry had jumped, dived and swum in the Pond until their fingers had turned wrinkled and Aunt Esmie had seen her precious baby shiver at least once. Then they had both been wrapped in big fluffy towels and were now sitting beneath the majestic horse chestnut trees, with the sunlight filtering warmly through the green fingered leaves, setting about the serious business of demolishing the picnic.

They sat happily munching their way through egg and cress sandwiches, pork pies, cold chicken, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, while their fathers discussed the various methods for catching pike.

"First of all you need a strong rod with a test curve of at least two and a half pounds," said Drogo. "I think Old Rory has done your lad proud with this one, although I doubt the child could handle his Lordship yet."

"True," Saradoc agreed, "It's got a massive reel; holds up to 30 pounds of braid line. I doubt Merry can even lift it, but you know how Rory is with the lad."

Frodo listened contentedly to the long discussion. He, and they, knew very well that no one ever actually caught his Lordship. The great pike had ruled the Pond for as long as he could remember, but had always remained, 'the one that got away'!

Merry and he had a little pretend squabble over the last egg sandwich, until Merry diplomatically tore it in two, measuring the pieces to make sure they were equitable and handing Frodo the slightly smaller half. "You shouldn't even be eating those Fro," the youngster pointed out diplomatically. "You know egg makes you ill."

"I don't care," Frodo grinned; his mouth full of sandwich. "They're still my favourites." _'Which was odd,_' it suddenly occurred to him. _'Egg does make me ill and I never eat it!'_

_'Nevertheless! This was the most perfect day,_' Frodo thought dreamily_. "Nothing could make it better – could it?"_

Then, strolling over the mossy bank that surrounded the Pond, he saw his Uncle Bilbo, followed by – of all people – the wizard Gandalf! Why would Bilbo be here, today of all days? Frodo had not even heard that he was due to visit – and with Gandalf! Perhaps they were off on another adventure, or had just been on one and were coming to tell him all about it. Well that would certainly make this day even more than perfect!

Suddenly, Frodo's happiness seemed to falter. Of course he was delighted to see them, but there was something not quite right about it – something frighteningly unreal!

And why was Merry here at the same time as his own parents? Drogo and Primula had both drowned at least two years before Merry was even born. It was all wrong. "But then," Frodo said out loud to whoever might be listening, "it's a very nice dream; just a happy dream. Something I wished could have happened and that's not such a bad thing."

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sam was digging his garden. The soil was deep black with loam and a touch of peat and he turned it over with ease. Behind him on the grass were three bulging sacks, each filled to the brim with that morning's crop of new potatoes.

"Sam! Help me Sam!" Marigold, his youngest sister was struggling along the path, laden down by a hefty jug with a tankard balanced on top, together with an equally huge bundle made from a large red and white spotted cloth. Sam rushed to her rescue, laughing as he unburdened her of the pitcher of beer and mug.

"Ma said to bring you a noon piece," explained Marigold unnecessarily. "I thought I was going to drop it!"

"Drop my beer!" Sam exclaimed in mock indignation. "I would have to disown you as my sister if you did that!"

Sam sat on the lush green grass and took a long pull on his beer, while Marigold set out the freshly baked bread and ripe yellow cheese on the red and white cloth. There were pickled onions in a jar and a large slab of butter wrapped in waxed paper. Marigold had even remembered to bring a good knife and a pickle fork.

Sam munched happily on the bread and cheese, while Marigold ran around picking lady-smocks and daffodils and poppies to make a posy for her mother. Just as Sam had speared his fifth pickled onion, there came a shout from over the hedge.

"Ho there Samwise Gamgee!" It sounded very much like Mr Bilbo Baggins' friend Gandalf the Wizard. Sam poked his head up over the hedge and there indeed was Mr Gandalf himself, together with Mr Baggins and his nephew Frodo, all sitting up grand in Mr Gandalf's waggon.

"How would you like to come for a little ride with us Samwise?" Gandalf had a twinkle in his eyes that Sam had never really noticed before.

"We're going down to Woody End," Frodo added. "Uncle Bilbo knows of some elves who will be passing that way and we're going to meet them."

"I've spoken to your ma and pa," Mr Bilbo added. "They say you've worked really hard and that they don't mind you coming along."

"Yes, do come Sam," Frodo pleaded. "I expect we'll stop for a couple of pints in the Green Dragon on the way back."

"Well, that would be grand!" Sam took his hat off and scratched his head. "But if you don't mind me saying, it's a bit of a surprise an' all!"

"I know!" Frodo laughed with glee at the gardener's perplexed expression. "I expect it all seems like a dream to you Sam. But why worry? Just come along and enjoy yourself."

"Right you are Master Frodo," Sam waved goodbye to Marigold and ran around to the gate. As he climbed up onto the back of the waggon the thought did cross his mind that, if it were a dream it certainly was a peculiar one. Sam did not in general hold with fanciful dreams; his Gaffer always said they weren't for the likes of them!

But, when all was said and done, this had to be a dream and a pretty odd one at that! _'Daffodils and poppies, blooming together?'_ Sam wondered why he had not thought about that earlier. _'And his ma! That was even more extraordinary. She had passed on before Marigold was even walking and yet now, she was baking him bread and sending him off on adventures with the Wandering Wizard to meet Elves! Very strange!'_

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Pippin couldn't remember a time when he had ridden his pony this fast. The wind was racing past his ears and his breath was coming in short exhilarated gulps. Bracken's hooves, pounding on the fresh green turf, filled the air with the heady aroma of springtime.

He had left Tuckborough at first light and was now flying through Green Hill Country on his way to Buckland. It was now nearly noon and all morning long Pippin and Bracken had been racing the Sun.

"Aha!" Pippin shouted to his willing pony, "We're winning! We'll be at Woodhall before her! Mistress Sun put on a good show, but She's no match for us!"

Bracken snorted in agreement, but still did not slow his pace.

"Good old Merry will be so surprised!" Pippin laughed. "At this rate we should be in Buckland before Her Royal Highness, Mistress Sun has even donned her nightdress, let alone thought about going to bed!"

Even as Pippin shouted his defiance at the Sun, a magnificent red stag broke cover before them and sprinted ahead, along the green ride, his noble head held high and his antlers shimmering in the golden sunlight.

"Come on Bracken," Pippin cried. "Let's race him. The Sun has proved no match for us; we will show this fellow the meaning of speed!"

Without further urging, Bracken put his ears back and head down and was soon galloping neck and neck with the stag. Ahead of them Pippin could see that a great oak had fallen across their path and was blocking the way. Its ancient trunk was thick with age and it rose at least six feet from the ground.

"Hey hup, my beauty!" Without hesitation Bracken cleared the tree, leaping even higher than the stag had done and, with not an inch to call between them, the rider and pony raced the king of the woodland ever onwards with the leisurely Sun dawdling behind them.

"Hold there Peregrin Took! Halt I say!" A tall figure stepped out from the trees that lined the margins of the green ride, followed by a smaller, hobbit-sized person.

"Oh pish and botheration!" Pippin muttered. "Now who's this and what do they want?"

He hauled on Bracken's reins with a loud "Whoa!" And as the pony slowed to a halt, he jumped quickly down. "Gandalf!" Pippin was surprised and quite pleased to see who it was. "And Uncle Bilbo too! Why did you stop me?"

"Why do you think Peregrin Took?" Gandalf smiled at him.

"_**You**_ want to know what _**I**_ think?" Pippin laughed. "Is that a trick question?"

_'Now why did that seem so odd?'_ Pippin wondered. _'Then again, riding his pony faster than the Sun was really quite peculiar too; especially as he was riding from west to east. Didn't the Sun usually go the other way? A dream then,_' thought Pippin. _'What a pity; it had felt so real!'_

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_'Merry? Merry dear heart, why do you rage and weep so?'_

Merry could only vaguely make out the voice in his head, masked as it was by his anger and misery. As the first wash of anguish began to subside slightly, he became aware that Legolas must be talking to him. What was the rule at the moment? They'd been told not to mindspeak or... or... Whatever it was Merry decided he did not actually care anymore. His cousins and friend had been taken by the Nazgûl, almost certainly to Sauron, there was hardly anything he needed to keep secret now.

_'they all be goed... hic...pip...frodosam all go be takened'_

_'Who took them Merry?'_

_'be they nazergûl did takened'_

_'Why did they not take you?"_

_'not don't not know not know no things more now!'_

_'I don't understand either, but Merry, please be strong. I will consult with Gandalf. Do not say too much to me at the moment. Is Bloggin still with you?'_

_'is'_

_'Then speak with him until I can return to you – be brave my valiant soldier."_

_'will... hic... will try'_

Legolas carefully closed the link with Merry's mind and reached out his hand to Éowyn. She took it at once and listened carefully as he relayed all he knew, which, although was not much, was indeed dire.

Éowyn turned to Gandalf, who had been growing more and more impatient since his last communication with Bloggin via his brother. "I know," said Gandalf, waving his hand at her attempt to speak. "I eavesdropped. There is much to consider here, but so little of it makes sense. I must concentrate. There must be something I am missing."

"You could tell us Mithrandir," Éowyn spoke gently. "Perhaps if you set out all the facts to Legolas and to me you will see what is missing."

"Yes, yes," Gandalf beckoned to Sniggin to fetch him a low camp stool and he eased himself down to sit. "You are right Milady, we must apply logic."

Éowyn and Legolas could tell that the wizard was in great fear over what had happened to the hobbits, as indeed they were, but it would not help to dwell on that right now. Legolas, holding on tightly to Éowyn's hand, began to pull himself upright.

"No Legolas!" Éowyn, fearing for his wound, pushed gently with her other hand to stop him. "You are not healed enough yet. Your injury was only recently stitched. You must lie still!"

But Legolas was determined and, shaking his head, was able to pull himself up to lean against her. She managed to prop a pillow behind him and he sank back into it, satisfied that he was no longer flat on his back.

"Now," Gandalf began, his mind glancing briefly over what reaction young Faramir might have had at the close encounter between the elf and the object of his adoration. "The mystery is, why was Sauron not destroyed when Frodo threw the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. His power should have perished with Its destruction – this I know for certain."

"Can we be sure that he did actually throw It in?" Éowyn suggested. "I know we heard the hobbits mindspeaking that he had, but might that have been some kind of trick?"

Legolas shook his head firmly and sent with his mind_, 'I am sure there was no mistake about that. I am so familiar with the hobbits' minds now that I would have known if it were not them, or if they were being coerced in some way.'_

"Let us then assume that Frodo did in fact succeed," Gandalf continued. "But originally we were expecting Pippin to have to destroy his faux Ring as well and yet, Sniggin here reported that Merry had said the Ring was made whole again."

"Perhaps It wasn't!" Éowyn suggested. "How was It joined? Did he say?"

"'Scuse I Milady Madam," Sniggin had been following the debate with care, wondering if he might be called upon to give evidence at some point. "He sayed, that is Mr Little Pip sayed that it was Eroo what done it."

"It seems unlikely that Eru would intervene in such a circumstance," Gandalf said wryly, "although not impossible."

"Not Eru, begging yer pardon yer 'Onour," Sniggin wrinkled his already craggy face. Being quite a gossipy little orc, he actually had quite a good ear for detail. "He sayed it was Eroo."

"Just a difference in pronunciation, surely," Gandalf was quite aware that much was lost in translation between the hobbits and the two little orcs. "But whatever or whoever caused it, are we certain that it occurred?"

"We cannot be certain of anything," Éowyn voiced the thoughts of all. "But that it did not occur, would seem the most likely reason."

"In that case," Gandalf followed the line of logic, "what we need to do now is to establish what on Middle-earth happened to Pippin's Ring."

-TBC-

**Author's Notes:**

A big Thank You to the faithful reviewers!

No questions to answer this time. I just wanted to point out that the reference to "His Lordship" (The mighty pike of Bucklebury Pond) was inspired by Rupert Brooke's poem, "The Old Vicarage, Grantchester". I remember choosing this poem for my 5th Form poetry study. It was then, and still is, a big favourite of mine and these lines in particular have always stayed with me.

"Still in the dawnlit waters cool  
His ghostly Lordship swims his pool,  
And tries the strokes, essays the tricks,  
Long learnt on Hellespont, or Styx."

If you are a poetry freak like me, you probably already know it. If not, look it up anyway – it's a fantastic read!

Heddwch!

Llinos


	52. What Dreams May Come

**What Dreams May Come  
****Chapter 144/52**

**by Llinos  
beta Marigold**

Frodo ran over the mossy bank and flung himself at Gandalf, who picked him up and swung him around with a merry laugh. As soon as his feet touched the ground Frodo hugged Bilbo, almost squeezing the breath out of the old hobbit.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming today?" Frodo grinned from ear to ear. "It's wonderful to see you!"

"That would have spoiled the surprise," Bilbo chortled. "Besides, we had to see you today as we have some exciting and important news."

"Really?" Frodo gasped in amazement. "Just as I was thinking this day couldn't get any better. What is it?"

"Well," Bilbo began, "you remember that old ring of mine that I gave you?" It turns out it's even more magical than we thought."

"Yes," Gandalf took up the tale. "Apparently it isn't evil at all and, what is more important, it can make all your dearest wishes come true."

"It can?" Frodo's voice wavered with a touch of doubt.

"Indeed," Gandalf confirmed. "Don't you see Frodo, when you were holding It you must have made a wish for your parents not to have drowned and now that has come about."

"So it's really important Frodo," Bilbo added, "that you tell us where It is now."

"Just think of all the good that old Ring could do," Gandalf urged. "Not just for you, but for all hobbits, for all men and elves as well. You could bring about peace for Middle-earth, with no more suffering or war or hardship."

"Yes but..." Frodo could see the logic of this; in fact he wanted it to be true. "I don't have It any more!"

"Don't be foolish lad," Gandalf was still smiling, although his voice took on an irritated timbre. "Where is It? You have to give It to us; you won't know how to use It properly."

"I really don't have It," Frodo held out his hands and then pulled his shirt apart to show that the Ring was not concealed about his person. "I threw It away!"

"Surely you would not be so selfish!" Gandalf began to advance towards him as if he would take It from him. "Have you hidden It somewhere? Or perhaps given It to someone else. Where is It Frodo Baggins?"

"But Gandalf," Frodo was getting nervous of the wizard now. "You told me to throw It away! That's what you wanted me to do."

"Enough of this nonsense!" Gandalf caught hold of Frodo by his hair and lifted him up to glare into his face. His eyes were glowing red with anger. "Where is It?"

"It's gone!" Frodo shouted in panic. "I did what you said and destroyed It! I threw It into the River of Fire in Mount Doom!"

With a roar of anger Gandalf flung the hobbit to the ground. "Imbecile!"

As Frodo hit the cold flagstones his eyes shot open and he screamed with agony. His whole body pulsated with excruciating pain, such as he had never felt before in his whole life.

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sam chortled with delight as the waggon rolled along. Mr Bilbo was telling the tale of how Gandalf had turned the trolls into stone. He had heard the account many times before but never grew tired of it.

All afternoon Sam had listened to tales from his three companions. Mr Gandalf, he decided told the most stirring stories, filled with daring exploits and noble deeds, while Mr Bilbo was always able to inject merriment and mirth into his adventures. Mr Frodo spoke mostly about whispering trees and singing elves but occasionally his thoughts turned to accounts of exploration and faraway lands; of battles with dragons and fearsome beasts that could always be overcome by the valiant hero.

"Right now Sam," Frodo said, slapping the gardener on the back. "It's time for you to tell us a story."

"Oh I don't know no tales, other than what you have told to me," Sam explained. "Any story I could tell, you would have heard already."

"Come now Sam," Bilbo smiled encouragingly. "You must have some adventure to relate."

"Indeed Samwise," Gandalf chortled knowingly. "What about that time when you battled with the giant spider, and then you took Frodo's Ring? Now that was an heroic exploit."

"Wh-hat?" Sam was taken aback. How did Mr Gandalf know about that?

"Yes Sam!" Frodo added. "You wore the Ring and fought all the orcs in the tower and rescued me. That was very brave!"

"Ah yes!" Bilbo sighed. "My old Ring. You'd be amazed at how wonderful It really is Sam. It's quite magical you see and that's not a bad thing. It's the reason why your dear mother Bell is still alive. Only, the thing is, you gave It back to Frodo and now he seems to have lost It."

"Perhaps I gave It back to you Sam," Frodo suggested, "or maybe to someone else? You must know where It is. You can always find things that I've mislaid."

"B-but Mr F-Frodo, Sir," Sam stuttered. "You're scaring me now. You know very well that you threw It into the Fiery River! You must remember – Gollum and all?"

"I don't think I would do that!" Frodo said indignantly. "Why would I throw away something so precious?"

"Because Mr Gandalf told you to," Sam started edging towards the side of the waggon. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll walk the rest of the way home."

"Samwise Gamgee, you stay right where you are!" Gandalf had dropped the reins and turned to point his staff at the hobbit. "Where is that Ring? Speak up – quickly now – or I'll turn you into a crawling toad!"

"It's gone!" Sam felt his whole body tremble with fear. "Honest Mr Gandalf, Sir. I dursen't dare lie to you. Mr Frodo did throw it away – It's destroyed and gone forever!"

"Liar!" Gandalf's staff shot a bolt of red flame that struck Sam squarely in the chest. The hobbit felt his heart lurch and, with a cry of pain, he fell over the side of the waggon and landed on the dark cobbles beneath.

He awoke to a pitiful moaning sound and, flailing around in the dark, his whole body too wracked with pain to think coherently, he found Frodo.

{}{}{}{}{}{}

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf," Pippin smiled up at the twinkling eyes of the wizard. "You too Bilbo, only I was on my way to see Merry and I don't want to be late."

"Well actually that's the reason we stopped you," Gandalf explained. "We've got a message for you from Merry's father."

"Have you?" Pippin was more than a little surprised. "But they don't even know I'm coming. Why would they send me a message?"

"Ah well," Gandalf knelt down and took Pippin's small hand in his. "I'm afraid I have some ill news for you. You see Merry's father wanted me to stop anyone who was heading towards Buckland because, sadly, Merry has had a bad accident."

"What? No!" Pippin looked wildly from Gandalf to Bilbo. "What's happened?"

"He was riding his pony – too fast I suspect," Gandalf explained gently. "The pony's hoof got caught in a rabbit hole and threw Merry and I'm afraid he's not expected to live."

"No!" Pippin's face crumpled in anguish. "That can't be true! There must be something someone can do! What about the healers?"

"No," Bilbo shook his head sadly. "They say there is nothing and no one who can save him... except... no... you probably don't have It."

"What? Don't have what?" Pippin shouted in desperation.

"My old Ring," Bilbo said glumly. "Remember? You rubbed It on your face once, when you were quite little and asked if you could have It when I died."

"I think I remember," Pippin agreed. "We were playing hide and seek."

"Yes," Bilbo said. "But if we had that Ring now, we could use It to save Merry. It has amazing magical properties that we've only just discovered."

"I know the last time you were riding on a horse, my horse I believe, you were wearing It," Gandalf said quite sternly. "Isn't that so?"

"Err what? Yes, I don't know," Pippin searched his muddled mind frantically for the memory. "It was Frodo's, but something happened, it's confused. Somehow I had It, but Eroo put It back into Frodo's Ring again."

"What do you mean?" Gandalf's voice had lost its kindly quality. "Explain yourself, Peregrin Took!"

"It's too difficult," Pippin bit down on the inside of his mouth, hoping that the pain would help him to focus on what he needed to know. He felt the bitter taste of iron trickle over his tongue and, putting his fingers to his lips, saw that they came away bloody. He looked wildly around; this was all wrong, but he could not find a way to stop it.

"Answer me!" Gandalf boomed. "You fool of a Took! What have you done with the Ring?"

"I... I don't know," Pippin backed away and managed to fling himself up on Bracken's back. "I lost It! That is Frodo threw It away, It's gone. Giddy up Bracken," Pippin tapped his heels into the pony's sides.

But as Bracken began to move off Gandalf threw his arms into the air in front of them. "Defy Me you wretch! You will obey or die!"

Bracken whinnied in fright and reared up on his hind legs. As Pippin fell from the pony the soft greensward beneath him changed to solid rock and the bright sunlight was snuffed out in a flash. All around him was darkness and unremitting agony.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"I-I'm sorry," Merry pushed himself up into a sitting position as Legolas left his mind. He sniffed as he scrubbed his sleeve across his face. "Are you all right?"

"I dunno," Bloggin looked more bemused than usual. "What happened?"

"Just about all the worst things that possibly could happen!" Merry snapped. Then he drew a deep breath and, clutching his still aching right arm, tried to summon up a modicum of rational thinking. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault. It's just... this... this isn't what was supposed to happen and I- I just don't know what to do now. Do you have any ideas?"

"Err... No sir, Mr New Little Pip sir," Bloggin was used to taking orders, not being asked for suggestions. "Go back and find the Cap'n?"

"No!" Merry made up his mind quickly. "I'm going to go to Barad-dûr! That's where they will have taken them and all I can think of now is to get them back."

"Well, the Cap'n is from there," Bloggin suggested nervously. Mr New Little Pip had on a determined face which was very fierce and quite frightening. "P'raps he would help?"

"I can't ask that of Mr Smagnude," Merry shook his head. "He risked so much to bring Pip and me out in the first place. I can't ask him to go back there."

"Yer've been in Barad-dûr!" Bloggin had never been selected to serve in the great fortress himself, although he was not too sure if this was a good or a bad thing. He knew for certain it was a dangerous thing – especially for the likes of small creatures like Mr New Little Pip or him. "But the Cap'n; well he's a biggun, there's not many as can take him on, an' that's the truth!"

"You're right," Merry conceded. "At least I should tell him where I'm going, I owe him that much at least. But I'll not suggest he comes with me – and neither must you; understand?"

"Oh I got to come wiv yer," Bloggin said immediately; completely misunderstanding. "I dun't fink me mind'll let me not."

"What?" Merry ran the exchange through his brain again to decipher what Bloggin meant. "No, no – you shouldn't come with me and you're not to suggest to the Captain that he does either."

"Right," Bloggin did not feel equal to arguing with the distraught hobbit. "Well let's go and find the Cap'n anyway."

Together they started back down the long road. Merry was controlling his woe with anger and the grief had sunk to a tight, painful knot deep in his belly. He knew Legolas was right and that he had to be brave; there was no hope of rescuing his dear ones if he succumbed to the anguish of losing them. He had found in the past fury and determination went a long way to overcoming sorrow, but it was still hard; especially in maintaining a relatively normal and calm front to those around him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As Gimli entered the tent, with Faramir hard on his heels, he stopped so abruptly that the man ran into the back of the dwarf and almost tumbled over him.

Faramir, recovering quickly, was glad to see that Éowyn had apparently not even noticed his blunder, but was slightly dismayed to see that the reason for this was that her gaze was transfixed upon Legolas.

The elf, in spite of his wound, was sitting up; his unseeing eyes wide open but vacant. Gandalf stood before him; his hands held over Legolas's brow as if in benediction, while Éowyn held the elf's face and gazed intently into his unfocussed stare.

"We bring news from the field," Faramir gasped. "But I see pressing matters already beset you."

Even as he spoke, Éowyn cried out and, letting go of Legolas's face, clutched her midriff.

"Éowyn! Milady!" Faramir was by her side and placing a comforting arm about her before anyone else could react. "What is this distress?"

"I... I must return!" She attempted to brush Faramir's arm aside. "I am helping Legolas to absorb Pippin's pain and at the same time diverting his attention from Merry."

"No!" Faramir's tone startled even Gandalf, who turned from Legolas to look at the young soldier. "It is enough, you ask too much."

"Faramir my boy," Gandalf made his voice calm. "Much is at stake, in fact, all is at stake. Éowyn is doing what she must."

"Show me how then!" Faramir could feel great anger rising inside him, but tried to hold it back so that he would make a reasoned argument. "Why cannot I do this thing that hobbits, dwarfs, fair ladies and even orcs can accomplish? I am not your 'boy' Mithrandir. I do not wish to be discourteous, but please stop treating me as if I were no more than a child!"

"Faramir," Gandalf sighed. "I do not mean to diminish you in the eyes of the Lady, but this is a complex situation and Éowyn is managing well. It is not a field of battle, where valour and victories are to be won, but a manoeuvre of stealth..."

"Which is causing the Lady great distress!" Faramir was really angry now. "It is not for glory and honour that I offer my service. Know this! If I can save the Lady Éowyn one second of pain, I would give my life and consider it well spent!"

"But My Lord Faramir..." Éowyn began and then relented. True, she was a shield maiden and had already won honour on the field of conflict. But it would be to lie to herself and to him to deny her feelings for Faramir at this point, and to spurn his declaration of devotion would be more than churlish. "I understand and I thank you for your concern and... and, if Mithrandir and Legolas will allow it, I would more than welcome your assistance."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Yooouuu arrrre liaarrs!" The voice was as hollow as the cowl that covered the invisible face, but terrifying for all that. It grated against Sam's senses like a rusty door hinge that needed oiling. "Sssave yourrrrsself; sssave otherrrss! Where isss RING?"

"I told you! I ain't lying and neither is Mr Frodo!" Sam groaned in spite of his defiant words. Every part of his body was aflame with hurt and he wondered vaguely if his face looked as bruised as Frodo's, who lay unconscious in his arms. "It's gone – destroyed. Mr Frodo threw It into the fiery river – I can't tell you nothing more about It – thass all I know."

"Youuu wisssh morrre paaaainn?"

"Aiiiieeeee!" Sam had not meant to scream; he had managed not to cry out quite a few times now, especially when Mr Frodo had still been awake. But the last bolt of agony seemed to sear right through his heart and he slumped forward across Frodo's lifeless body.

"**THESE STUPID CREATURES DO LIE, BUT NOT IN THEIR MISGUIDED BELIEF THAT MY RING IS DESTROYED."**

Morgomir, Lieutenant of Carn Dûm, had followed the interrogation of the insects' tiny minds, whilst holding them in thrall so that his Master could explore their thoughts unhindered. He thought he had heard the mendacity of their dreams and was certain that they were lying about the Ring.

**"NO!"** Sauron's voice insisted. **"THEY HAVE A DIRT CLEVERNESS THAT BELIES THEIR WEAK APPEARANCE."**

"Was this how you knew the truth of the Ring My Lord?" Morgomir asked.

**"NO FOOL! I WOULD KNOW IF MY RING WERE DESTROYED! YOU AND ALL WHO SERVE ME WOULD KNOW, FOR I WOULD FALL BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND BE AS DUST.**

**"BUT THEY PLACED PETTY, STUPID LIES WITHIN THE DREAMS I MADE FOR THEM SO THAT I WOULD SEE THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THEIR WAY OF DECEPTION AND THEIR WAY OF TRUTH."**

"So they truly believe the Ring destroyed, My Lord, but you know It is not – what must we do now?"

**"THERE IS NO MORE TO BE LEARNED FROM THESE BRATS! CAST THEM TO THE JAIL UNTIL I DECIDE THEIR FATE**

"Would you not destroy them now, My Lord?"Morgomir knew his Master would not show mercy to those who deceived him. "What is your purpose for them?"

**"THE SMALLEST ONE, THERE IS A THOUGHT IT CONCEALS."**

"My Lord?"

**"IT HAS INFORMATION IT DOES NOT ITSELF UNDERSTAND. ALSO IT DOES NOT FEEL ENOUGH PAIN, IT IS BEING HELPED."**

"Who would help it My Lord?"

**"THE ELF! I HOLD IT'S EYES AND VOICE STILL, BUT YET IT LINGERS. I SHALL GIVE IT HOPE SO THAT IT MAY BETRAY ITSELF AND THE SHIRE RAT!"**

**-TBC-**

**Awful Notes:**

Once more, thank you kind reviewers! Here are a few notes, some of which may possibly help to clarify some of the vaguer plot points – not too much, I have to maintain my reputation for being less than obvious at all times!

_"I truly thought we were nearing the end" __– _I'm sorry **Dreamflower**, but you know how I am with endings!

_"I know why Merry didn't get taken_" – Because he had never touched the Ring, my bad **GW** I was probably being a bit vague about that. Something will happen soon which appears to contradict that, but it actually doesn't. Is that as clear as mud? Good!

_"__I liked Frodo's the best." – _Well **Pippinfan, Lauderdale** liked Sam's and Lesley liked Pippin's best – so that's worked out well!

_"__Not Eru, but Eroo..." – _Hmm, nothing too sinister here **Poppy**. Oh and thank you for the kind remarks, can never have enough of those!

_"how many years is it now_?" Eight I think, **Poppy**, although I have taken a couple of breaks!

_"__if it turns out that Eroo *is* not some part of Eru" _Not really **Lauderdale**, although you're both on the right track, it's just me being obtuse again. Eroo isn't evil, he's just not Eru, if you see what I mean.

Heddwch!

Llinos


	53. Stercus Accidit

**Stercus Accidit  
Chapter 145/53**

**by Llinos  
beta Marigold**

Pippin whimpered as he opened his eyes. Not just because of the terrifying pain that seemed to encroach on every part of his small body; not just because he was fearful for Frodo and Sam, who lay on floor beside him; not just because he was wishing that Merry were here, but was glad that he wasn't. It was because he recognised where he was. It was the same cell that he and Merry had been placed in by old Grumpfly in Barad-dûr!

Frightened to move for the moment, and not even sure that he could, he lay on the cold flagstones and listened carefully, a new luxury in this place and one that he knew he should use.

There were sounds from the other side of the great wooden cell door, sounds of snoring. One person, Pippin thought; probably the jailer.

_'Pippin, do you hear me?'_

_'legolas, you not to go be here! go out we nows and go nows it!'_

_'Hush little one. Let go of your pain. Give it to me, it is all right.'_

_'it... it be t-too bad at you is legolas!'_

_'No, you must let it go Pippin dear. I have help.'_

_'b-but He finds we you... hic'_

_'We are already found and He has taken all he could from your memory. Now let me have your pain Pippin dearest, some of it at least.'_

Pippin whimpered again with the effort and then sighed with honest relief as he allowed a part of his agony to drift into the link. He sat up and took a good look around.

Frodo and Sam were sprawled on the flagstones, Frodo was hunched up against the gardener, as if Sam had been trying to comfort and hold him before he too had lost consciousness.

Carefully, Pippin lifted Sam's arm away, shuddering at the bruises and abrasions on Frodo's face and the seeping gash in Sam's neck. He needed to do whatever he could to help them both. Trying not to give in to panic, Pippin made a visual inventory of the cell's contents. There was the same cot with its ragged mattress and single dirty blanket; a jug lying on its side, so obviously it was empty, and his old friend, the bucket.

Hauling himself to his feet, Pippin retrieved the bucket and upended it in front of the door. Then he fetched the jug and, climbing onto the bucket, managed to peer through the grating. He was quite surprised to see the same jailer that had given him the biscuits and also some rather rough treatment when he and Merry had attempted suicide, albeit it was to save their lives rather than through any vindictiveness or cruelty. The hobbit wondered how the orc had survived retribution, following their escape. He also wondered if the jailer would be so kindly disposed towards him after what had happened.

"Well," he mused out loud, "he's all I've got, so I'd best put on my most abject, sorrowful face, although that won't be difficult just now."

But even as Pippin began to summon up his courage to call the jailer, a wash of his original agony swept back over him, knocking him off the bucket, which went clattering across the flagstones.

He lay there panting for a few moments, realising that the link with Legolas had been interrupted somehow, although not completely, not all of the pain was back. There came an angry shout from the other side of the cell door and Pippin realised that the snoring had stopped and the jailer, obviously woken by the bucket clatter, was coming to investigate.

_'eow? did we go hurtering you too and much?'_

_'Be not held in fear little one, send back forth your hurt to I.'_

_'not go sending eow, it be bad at you'_

_'It is well Pippin, send your pain, I will hold it'_

_'who is?'_

_'It is I, Faramir, I am here to help.'_

_'framir... faramir, you go be here, you go speak in elf!'_

_'I learned in my youth. Now let me take your hurts Pippin.'_

_'will... will do... got go talk now... thank and thank at you'_

Pippin had heard the key in the lock and the door creak open. At the same time he felt Faramir carefully but determinedly absorbing a large amount of his pain. He clambered gingerly to his feet again in time to greet the jailer's wizened, angry face.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As Merry left the road and began to clamber down to where they had left Smagnu and the Man, he could hear, softly in the back of his head, Legolas soothing Pippin and knew that he needed to stay out. At least it would bring some relief to his cousin and, perhaps, when Frodo and Sam regained their senses, the Elf and those helping him might be able to do the same for them. But it would only bring a temporary relief; there was nothing they could actually do to rescue the hobbits.

'No!' Merry thought with renewed determination. 'That was up to him now!'

Merry let Bloggin take the lead over the precipitous rocks, which were punctuated with treacherously sliding shale. The orc seemed quite at home negotiating this terrain and Merry used the same paths and handholds that Bloggin had, as if they were imbued with some kind of magic.

"I sees the Cap'n," Bloggin broke their tacit silence excitedly. "We's nearly there!"

As they scrambled over the last hundred yards, Smagnu came up to meet them and lifted the exhausted pair over the final descent into Majdi's waiting arms.

"Did you find Little Pip and where're the other ones?" Smagnu's first question caught Merry off guard. Of course he would have to explain what had happened, but the thought of it made him stutter and shake again.

"Th-they... that is... it's..."

"Mr Little Pip got tooken," Bloggin supplied helpfully. "An' Mr San'wich, an' Mr Fro, they all got took by sumfink what weren't there!"

"How do you mean?" Majdi Rann had had plenty of dealings with orcs of Bloggin's breed before and they were well known for being strangers to the truth. "Are you making things up?"

"No, no!" Merry pulled himself together. "It's the truth. It was some sort of ghostly wind or something. It picked them all up and then the Nazgûl took them. They must have taken them to Barad-dûr and I have to go after them."

"You think theys still alive then?" Smagnu looked suspiciously at Merry. "Yers saying the Nazgûl took them back to Barad-dûr, they didn't kill them or nothing?"

"Yes!" Merry said emphatically. "I'd know if they were dead, truly I would. Sauron wants them for... for... for His own purpose."

Smagnu bent down and took Merry by the shoulders, looking quizzically into his intent face. "What are you? I've wondered before, but never really thought about it too much. I do know that you've some kind of magick about you, that's for sure. I was with you when you got took to the Lord and Master before, but He just threw you out then. I knew He wanted something from you, 'cause that was why you and Little Pip was gonna kill yerselves, but..." He put his head on one side and turned Merry firmly from side to side by his shoulders, as if examining the physical presence of the hobbit would give him the answer. "But what are you and Little Pip that makes you so important to Him?"

Merry took a deep breath; this was certainly the longest speech he had ever heard the Uruk make, so should he tell his Mr Smagnude the truth? What difference would it make now anyway? The Ring was gone as far as he knew and so were those dearest to him. All he really cared about right now was how to get them back.

"I am going to tell you something that is the biggest secret I ever carried in my life," Merry began. "You and Mr err Madge..."

"Majdi," The Man supplied. "Majdi Rann."

"Mr Majdi, sorry," Merry continued. "On this thing rests the whole fate of Middle-earth and I'm not sure... Aiiieeee! What the..."

To the amazement of both orcs and Majdi, Merry suddenly flung himself at Bloggin and, knocking him to the ground, began to shake him like a terrier with a rat.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas shuddered as he sensed swathes of pain leaving his body. He realised at once that Faramir was absorbing far more than Éowyn or the hobbits had ever managed to contain. He reached up to his face where the man's hand rested on his cheek and gently laced the strong fingers into his own. He felt the new mind protest at the touch.

_'Do not fear, I can hold this much. Let me take it from you so that you may help the little ones.'_

_'You will stay conscious? For if you do not it will return threefold to Pippin.'_

_'I will, I have much strength yet to give.'_

Legolas could tell it was true. He had seldom linked minds with men, in fact Éowyn was the only human he had linked with in recent years and Faramir's strength had surprised him. He could still feel Éowyn in the background. After introducing Faramir to his mind, she had not left but remained linked and he could feel the lady's astonishment and admiration at the power of Faramir. Gandalf was speaking now and Legolas dragged his mind away from these thoughts to concentrate on the Wizard's words.

"Be careful, but try to find out from Pippin what he did with the other Ring." Gandalf knew that Legolas would well aware of the need for stealth, but it was too vital not to mention it now. The Wizard had withdrawn from the mindlink completely as his resonance was hard to disguise from Sauron. Even Legolas was at severe risk of being identified, but the game had changed. They no longer needed to conceal the hobbits' presence, as obviously Sauron knew where they were. What was important though was to discover the whereabouts of the Ring without Sauron discovering It too.

_'Pippin do you remember your mathom? The birthday present?'_

_'do'_

Legolas paused – something strange. He felt a peculiar prickling sensation behind his eyes, as if he had brushed against stinging nettles. Then there was a rush of breeze against his face, as if a sharp autumn wind had blown through the tent. He squinted his eyelids together and then opened his eyes wide and felt his voice grow in his throat.

"I can see!" He gasped.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The One Ring of Sauron did not have independent thought processes in the same way that an incarnate being did. But It was imbued with an intelligence that emanated from the Master who had crafted It.

Its chief impetus was to survive and Its ultimate goal was to return to Its Master to fulfil the destiny of Him who had created It. The only way It could do that was to sense the feelings of those around It and exert pressure on them.

When It had bifurcated Its chances of success had grown immensely, for how could two separate parts be destroyed at once? But the small creatures carrying It had somehow united, in spite of Its attempts to make them fight each other. Then, the Ring of Sauron had sensed all was lost when the force that was not Eru, but was a scion of the same, had intervened. It had savagely tried to resist the reunion; It did not want to be made One and Whole again, for in that path lay Its destruction.

It had scorched the hands that held Its two parts so that each had dropped their own Ring. It knew the older creature would surely destroy It for the Ring had felt the tenacity of this small being and, while the creature would have doubts, in the end the creature would prevail and cast It into the Cracks of Doom.

It had impelled the younger creature to take It just before losing consciousness. But then the newly whole Ring had sensed something else in this one, a fiercely loyal determination. It knew this younger one would hand It back to the older creature. That could not happen!

It could not escape the clutch of the younger creature of Its own volition, not while it slept, so instead It had turned Its appearance to be base and tarnished, knowing that these simple beings were lured by the sight of something golden and shiny. It had known the other Ring – the faux ring, in which It had hidden, would remain as it was forged, made as it was of earthly gold, and that the creatures would be deceived.

And the strategy had worked. The younger creature had disregarded It, seeing only the dull base metal and not understanding the power It concealed and reached for the glistening gold of the lifeless ring which was now no more than a bauble. The true Ring, Sauron's Ring, would still rule over the empty ring. As long as it remained close there was control enough to make these foolish creatures believe they held the Ring of Power.

But the Ring Itself was dropped on the cold mountainside and there It could lie in wait to ensnare another bearer.

But something happened then that the Ring did not intend... It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable...

**-TBC-**

**Author's Notes**

Just a thought, but is it possible someone just chucked a Ring of Power into Eyjafjallajoekull?

Hi **Pip4**, nice to have your comments. I think you had only one question about the shadow wraiths not sensing so much Ring on Pippin. Well they did, quite a lot, but there's just more on Frodo. After all, he has owned It for a long time. Also a lot of what they got from Sam was actually emanating from Frodo if you see what I mean. Does that satisfy? I like to give satisfaction where possible.

**GW:** As always, very thoughtful review. Interesting what you say about psychological torture being worse than the other kind and I'm sure you're right. To be honest, I felt I'd copped out on this, since psychological torture is actually much easier to write! Less messy really.

**Angela: **Lots of interesting comment here as usual. That quote was quite chilling btw. You're very good at analysing Merry, I just write about what he does, whereas you seem to know why he does it. Did you get inspired to put pencil to sketchbook? Love to see it if you did.

Occasionally readers come up with fairly accurate predictions of where I'm going, in spite of the ducking and diving that goes on. For this reason, I'm always 2-3 chapters ahead of what is posted. That way I don't get pulled in too many directions for different ways the story might go. I've got enough directions already I think!

Heddwch!

Llinos


	54. Ad Hoc

**Ad Hoc**  
**Chapter 146/54**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

Although the Mouth of Sauron wore thick metal armour and was flanked by his two returned, albeit extremely out of favour, servants, and they in turn were escorted by four Uruk-hai Captains, he felt almost naked.

As he stood before the Black Gate, he could see that the forces of Sauron no longer held the field, in spite of their overwhelming odds. Strategy and determination it seemed were winning the day, although the Mouth knew this was not the case but rather that Sauron Himself had turned His attention away from the battle.

Although the Mouth was a mere vessel of his Master, he understood Sauron's mind as well as any living man might and better than most. Sauron knew that the battle before the Black Gate was a diversion; the pathetic little army had never seriously expected to triumph. It mattered little if they did. They were as an annoying fly buzzing at his Master's ear, easily swatted at will or ignored if other, more pressing, matters presented.

And one urgent subject was impelling his Master now, but there was still one small thing that He needed from these pathetic men. That was why he had been sent to demand Embassy with them once more.

The flag of truce had been recognised and acknowledged and now the leaders, the upstart 'king' and his deluded followers were assembled before him to hear his Lord's demands.

"The Lord Sauron is prepared to make you a generous offer – an exchange of hostages."

"We hold no hostages," Aragorn exclaimed. "All the former soldiers of your army fight with us willingly."

"You do not understand," the sneer of contempt in the voice of the Mouth was unmistakeable. "They are but misguided fools who will be punished in due course. What my Lord proposed is that He will give you back one of the Shire rats in exchange for the Elf!"

"Why would He make such a bargain?" Aragorn was taken aback by this demand but did not let it show. "What would it profit Him? This at least we must know before such a covenant is made."

"Legolas for one of the hobbits?" Gimli growled with anger. "That would be a sore choice to make!"

"The Lord Sauron does not give reasons," the Mouth snarled. "Those are the terms, take them or reject them. You have one hour to decide."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin looked sheepishly up at the cross jailer, wondering whether he might fare better by pretending he still couldn't talk or hear. Perhaps best to just stay silent for now and see how things went.

"Fug me! It _**is**_ you – you little rat," the jailer made a half-hearted swipe at Pippin, who managed duck out of the way quite easily. The orc was obviously still not too sure about the rumoured magickal properties of the odd little creature. "Whaddyer come back 'ere for? I near got in a whole sack load o' shit 'cause of yer!"

Pippin retrieved the bucket and jug and held them up, his head on one side with a questioning look.

"I ain't 'elping yer again," the jailer snarled. "Yer nuffink but trubble – you!"

Pippin carefully placed the bucket back on the floor and held up the jug again and pointed to Frodo and Sam. Once more he put his head on one side and gave the orc his most heart-wrenching, mournful look. Silently he cursed the fact that he didn't have any of the little mithril coins on him.

"Yeah – yer mates is in a pretty sorry way," the orc narrowed his already squinting eyes. "So how come yer not the same – eh? Eh?"

Pippin decided he definitely did not want to acknowledge understanding that question; obviously keeping mum was going to be best. He ignored the enquiry as if he had not heard and played his ace. Dropping the jug, he fell forward onto all fours and crawled over to the jailer, grabbed his leg in an affectionate hug and looked up at him with wide pleading eyes.

Whether out of pity for the hobbit, or inspired by fear of either the creature's magick or possible future retribution from Smagnu or some other Uruk who might have adopted the little imp, the appeal worked. Grumbling under his breath, the jailer collected the jug and shuffled out of the cell.

There was a lot banging and muted swearing and Pippin wondered whether he should follow the jailer as he had before, or if this might be pushing things a little too far. Before he had made up his mind, the orc returned. Not only did he bring a jug full of water, but, miracle of miracles, three biscuits!

Admittedly it was the last thing he wanted right then, and it was doubtful that biscuit eating would be the first thing on Frodo's mind when he awoke. Although Pippin was not certain he could say the same for Sam, who was always ready for a snack. The thought cheered him a little and he found himself smiling as he looked up gratefully at the bearer of refreshments.

Determined to keep the momentum going with the jailer, Pippin took a wizened paw and kissed it. Then he carefully placed the three biscuits in a row on the cot and set the jug down beside his friends.

The jailer grunted with some sort of begrudging satisfaction and stomped outside, slamming and locking the cell door behind him. Pippin set to work.

First he tore several strips from his already bedraggled and depleted shirt and, sitting down beside Frodo, lifted his head into his lap and, with the now moistened rag, gently wiped his face. He wet the cloth again and ran it around the cut and bleeding lips, finally taking a fresh cloth and squeezing as much moisture as he could into his cousin's mouth.

He repeated the same action with Sam, remembering that it was Boromir who had taught him and Merry that dehydration was the greatest enemy of the wounded.

He continued treating Frodo and Sam alternately, until at least half the contents of the jug had gone and Sam finally stirred, coughing and spluttering on the last liberal helping of water Pippin had squeezed down his throat.

Sam grasped Pippin's arm as he gasped for breath, obviously in great pain and distress. "I... wha... is..." Sam gave up trying to talk; he could not form any coherent thoughts, let alone words.

Pippin cradled Sam's head as he sank back down, exhausted with the effort. He put his lips close to Sam's ear and whispered so that the jailer would not hear him talking. "You go good soon Sam, Fro go being heres too; he get some breathes." Then, lost for anything more comforting to say, added, "you go want a bickit?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Steady New Little Pip," Smagnu overcame his surprise long enough to grab hold of Merry by the scruff and lift him up into the air, where he continued to kick and fight.

Bloggin, who was more winded than hurt, scrabbled behind a rock and looked fearfully up at the struggling hobbit. "I dursent done nuffink Cap'n, honest I dun't!"

"I-I'm s-sorry," Merry gasped for breath and composure, realising he was not going to achieve anything suspended two feet off the ground. "Put me down Captain, I'm all right now."

"Captain eh?" Smagnu tentatively set Merry on the ground, although he did not release his collar. "Well I suppose that's an improvement on Smagnude. Now what's all this about? Yer was about to tell us something important and then yer went bonkers on Blog here!"

"And what did this one do?" Majdi hauled Bloggin up by the ear. "Did he steal something off you or what?"

"Yes... no... I mean..." Merry's brain was moving faster than a hobbit with a pocket full of mushrooms and three fierce dogs behind him. Should he tell them everything? Perhaps it might be better to contact Gandalf? But how could he do that with this information? Not through Bloggin, that much was certain. He couldn't call to Legolas or he would be discovered, and to call Pippin might be even more disastrous. Maybe it would be better to make something up and bide his time. Wait for an opportunity to present itself. But time was running out and he needed to get to Barad-dûr and rescue the others.

"I... I just had a strange moment," Merry decided to settle for the lie. "I thought Bloggin was someone else – it's all the dreadful things that have happened and I got confused."

"So what's this big secret that you was going to tell us?" Smagnu persisted. "You didn't seem too confused about that."

"You do trust me Mr Smagnude," Merry took the Uruk's big hand in his. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," Smagnu was still baffled by the hobbits, but he had found them to be the most honest creatures he had ever dealt with in his whole existence. "I trusts yer."

"Well then," Merry drew a deep breath. "Trust me when I say that, to know what I know would put you and Mr Majdi in terrible danger and I don't want that for either of you. You've both saved our lives, Pip and me, several times over and I could not ask any more of you."

"What? Yer saying that if me and Majdi here, knew this secret we'd be goners?" Smagnu snorted. "I've faced the dark a million times and beat it. I don't reckon there're many as can put my lights out. I ain't afraid of no secrets!"

"I know you're as strong as a mountain troll," Merry smiled fondly at the great beast. "And you've proved as loyal a friend as any could wish for, my brave Captain. But this... thing... this secret – the retribution for knowing it could be worse than just dying – and I don't want that for either of you. I wouldn't wish this dreadful secret on you for anything."

"That's as mebbe," Smagnu said. "But you ain't going off to Barad-dûr on your own. What're you gonna do? Walk up and knock on the door?"

"No," Merry looked pointedly at Bloggin. "I have a plan!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"It makes no sense at all!" Gimli snorted into his beard. "Why would he offer one of the hobbits in exchange for Legolas?"

"His motivation is perfectly clear my friend," Aragorn spoke softly, making a lowering motion with his hand to indicate that Gimli should do the same. "He knows that Legolas is in mental contact with the hobbits – or at least Merry and Pippin and He is obviously failing to glean what He needs from them. Legolas might well be the key to that."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Gimli looked from Aragorn to Gandalf. "We should be asking the Elf what he thinks."

"Legolas is rather busy at the moment," Gandalf pointed out. He had moved the discussion outside the tent as Éowyn, Faramir and of course Legolas were intent on helping Pippin to control his pain. Both he and Legolas were worried about Frodo and Sam once they regained consciousness as the Elf's connection to them was much weaker and he feared he would not be able to help them as he did Pippin. "We need first to establish exactly what Sauron is trying to do."

"Also which course of action will be best for our purposes," Aragorn added patiently. "We need to be quite clear on that."

"Here, you, Orc!" Gimli had spotted Sniggin who, being currently redundant, had followed Gandalf. "Go and fetch us some ale."

"Yes, Meister Dwarft," Sniggin lifted his finger in salute and turned to go.

"And don't steal it!" Gimli added as a necessary precaution.

Sniggin turned back with a puzzled look on his face. "Well how's I gonna get it then?"

"Just ask," Gandalf suggested.

"Don't fink that's gonna work, Master Wizzard Sir," Sniggin scratched his head. "Couldn't yer just magick some, y' know with your wizzarding powers an' all?"

"No," Gandalf actually smiled, the little orc was really starting to grow on him. "Here, take this." He found a scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal and, scribbling a hasty note, handed it to Sniggin. "That should work."

"Cor!" Sniggin examined the scrap of paper carefully. "Dem's letterings ain't they? Thass real magick!" Holding the note carefully in front of him as if it might break, Sniggin set off to find refreshments.

"Yes, Sauron's purpose is clear," Gandalf continued, watching with perplexed amusement as Sniggin lifted up a tethering rope with his teeth and edged his way beneath it, whilst still holding the piece of paper with both hands. "He is obviously searching frantically for the Ring, which at least means He does not yet have It. From what Legolas has told me, He attempted to draw the information from the hobbits by inducing dreams in which they would reveal Its whereabouts."

"Legolas knows that?" Gimli asked with surprise. "But I thought he had lost contact with the hobbits when... when they were taken."

"He had," Gandalf explained. "At least he left them when I realised that the Ring was not destroyed. But once we realised, from Merry, where they had been taken, he managed to find Pippin's thoughts and it was his dream that he saw."

"And did he reveal anything?" Aragorn was not certain he wanted to hear the answer.

"Legolas says he managed exceedingly well," Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "He was able to place certain lies in his own dream that would show to Sauron that he was not lying about the Ring. However..."

"You pause my friend," Aragorn frowned. "Did he reveal something?"

"Only that which he could not conceal," Gandalf said. "He did not say anything, but Sauron, and Legolas as he listened, were able to sense that Pippin knew something more. The only reason He did not find out what, was simply because He did not know what question to ask."

"Does Legolas know what it was?" Gimli suggested. "Perhaps it might help us to locate the Ring."

"Unfortunately not," Gandalf shook his head. "But the key to that must lie with either Pippin or Frodo. They were the last two who had any contact with both Rings, apart from Gollum."

"So what should be our answer to the exchange offer?" Aragorn was aware that the deadline was nearing. "And why do you think Sauron would make such an offer – what is our incentive to comply?"

"Purely that we would gladly offer up one elf for what He sees as our precious halflings," Gandalf snorted. "He imposes strange values on us – they equate more closely to His own. We are not in the business of giving up one soul for another. We cannot make that choice. I imagine He will offer Sam, and much as I value the little chap, he would not thank us for offering Legolas in his stead, especially if that meant leaving Frodo behind."

"And if we refuse," Aragorn persisted, "that will put the hobbits in even greater peril?"

"Undoubtedly," Gandalf agreed. "But to consent to the exchange would be a further distraction for Sauron, especially if Legolas is able to mislead Him in some way."

"Hmph!" Gimli was growing impatient. "Then don't you think it's time you asked Legolas what he thinks? That way we can..." The Dwarf stopped abruptly and rubbed his eyes, "What in the name of Durin...!"

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Sniggin walked very carefully towards the quartermaster's tent, holding his precious scrap of magick before him. He knew the area very well, better than most, as he had spent quite a lot of time working out the most appropriate times and places to liberate the best supplies for his beloved Captain, to say nothing of for him and Bloggin. It was remarkably easy.

There were three waggons and they were set in an open square with a large tent making the fourth side. The bulk supplies were kept in the waggons, things such as flour, salt, sugar, oatmeal, dried beans and fruit and, of course, dried beef and salted pork.

The food was prepared just outside the tent and then stored inside, ready for distribution, although a large cauldron was generally bubbling outside, night and day, with either stew or porridge.

The liquid refreshments, the beer, wine and water were stored inside the tent. Water, of course being the most valuable and closely rationed commodity, was kept in two large butts and replenished as regularly as possible by supply teams, with light waggons and strong horses. The beer and wine were also rationed, but not restocked as frequently and not as popular anyway. The men usually grumbled if they were dished out with a half pint of ale for breakfast when water supplies were running low.

Sniggin, out of habit, glanced all around to see where the rather casual, to his mind, guards were stationed. He contemplated a brief opportunistic raid first, but then considered that his magick paper might get damaged or that some of the magick might wear off and instead joined the queue at the front of the tent.

There were several Riders of Rohan waiting their turn, although the bulk of the line was made up of fierce looking Gondorian soldiers. Sniggin wondered if his first plan of helping himself might have been better after all.

However, he was quite keen to try out the magick spell the Wizzard had given him and perhaps it would work on the queue as well. Ignoring the long line, Sniggin walked boldly up to the front and, as the customer who was being served finished, hopped ahead of the next, his eyes just reaching over the tall, improvised counter.

"'Scuse I," Sniggin began, holding the note up with both hands, "I'se got important orders from the Lord Wizzard 'iself!" Used to watching his back, the little orc immediately swung round and held the magick paper up to the queue behind him as well. "See it's powerful magick from 'is 'onour Lord Gandalf, he gived it to me special to use."

"So I see," the Gondorian Sergeant immediately behind him chuckled in amusement. "Well you'd better be quick about it then. Can't keep His Honour the Wizard waiting, now can we?" And he winked at the quartermaster over Sniggin's head.

"So what can I help you with today young sir?" The quartermaster grinned broadly at the Sergeant, trying hard not to laugh at the orc's obvious terror of his own boldness.

"A flagon of ale?" Sniggin hardly dared to believe this was actually going so well. "And I dursen't fink yer ought to call me _sir_, begging your own pardon Sir."

"Very well, young master," the quartermaster was realising quite quickly that orcs obviously did not understand irony. "A flagon of ale it is." He nodded to one of his lads, who quickly filled a jug to the brim. "Anything else?"

"Um..." Sniggin's mouth was hanging open at this point. He could scarcely believe the magick in the paper was this good, but, never one to miss an opportunity, he was happy to exploit it as long as it lasted. "A flagon of wine?"

"Indeed," The quartermaster once more set an assistant to the task and a jug of the best red wine was produced. "Is that all?"

"All?" Sniggin's eyes were now as wide as his mouth. He was generally used to stealing most of what he needed, not realising that the quartermaster was well aware of the orcs' method of collecting rations and generally turned a blind eye. In fact, he had become accustomed to leaving them their due allowance in strategic places where he knew they would find it. "Err... some of them little cakes, the white ones wiv dots on."

"Yes, I have some seed cakes today," the quartermaster reached under the counter and produced half a dozen, ready wrapped in cloth. "Be sure to return the wrappings, we're short of that. Anything else?"

"You got any meat?" Sniggin had no idea what kind of meat might be available, but for a creature used to a diet of slugs and worms, any kind of flesh a man would eat had to be an improvement.

"I have some roast fowl and I can do you a hand of salted pork, or perhaps the wizard would like both?"

"Um... yes if yer please sir."

"You'll be needing some bread to go with that." The quartermaster's lads were all busy now, fetching produce from various corners of the stores, until eventually the counter before Sniggin was laden with a banquet fit for a king, or a wizard at least. "Now I'll dare say, you need a little help to carry that lot?"

Sniggin was beyond speech by now and could only helplessly nod his agreement. He remained open-mouthed as the four lads gathered up his rations and waited for him to lead the way. As the procession left the tent, the queue of soldiers, who had all been following the negotiations with increasing amusement, burst into spontaneous applause.

Sniggin, albeit still clutching his magick paper before him, marched slightly nervously at the head of the procession and led the way to where Gimli stood rubbing his bewildered eyes in disbelief.

Wordlessly, the little orc, finally consigning the magick paper to a safe spot in his shirt next to his heart, began running around to fetch tables and stools, goblets and tankards, plates and knives; directing the quartermaster's lads to where they should set out the various items and bowing politely to them as they left.

Finally, happy with his catering arrangements, Sniggin proudly bowed before Gandalf, with all the aplomb of the best maître d' that ever graced an hotel. "Thass real powerful magick yer 'onour Master Wizzard." Sniggin ventured. "I never got grub so easy in all me life afore!"

"Yes, well," Gandalf accepted the proffered stool and waited as Sniggin filled his goblet with wine. "Perhaps I'd better have the magic back for now." With a tinge of regret, Sniggin fished the note from his shirt and handed it back to Gandalf.

"What did you write on it?" Aragorn, who had not actually eaten for quite some time, helped himself to salted pork and bread. "I suspect not everything we see before us."

"I may have been a little injudicious," Gandalf admitted. "Perhaps next time I need to be more specific." He handed the note to Aragorn. It read, _'give the bearer whatever he asks for.' _It was signed with a 'G' and the elf rune '¥' – well known as Gandalf's mark.

"Hmm..." Aragorn read the note with a frown. "Powerful magic indeed, especially in the hands of an orc."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Give it to me!" Merry hissed at Bloggin. He had waited until Smagnu and Majdi had taken the horses to a water tank they had located, claiming that he and Bloggin needed to rest after their ordeal. "It's not yours."

"What?" Bloggin was genuinely puzzled. "I ain't got nuffink, 'cepting what's mine."

"Round your neck," Merry reached forward as if to grab, but Bloggin quickly backed away. "I'm not saying you stole it, but you must have found it when you got those other things."

"What, this?" Bloggin lifted up the piece of rag he had made into a necklace. Strung on it, like a pendant, was a tarnished and blackened ring. "Thass just an ol' bit of jul-lorry. I found it on the ground, so's finders-keepers!"

"No!" Merry advanced again, his jaw set and a scowl covering his usually amiable face. "It's not yours. It belongs to Little Pip. It was with the other things that he dropped. Now give It to me!"

Bloggin had not thought much about his prize, except that, like most orcs, he liked adornments. But generally such things were easy come – easy go. Now he felt a strange reluctance to part with the blackened ring, and why did New Little Pip want it so badly anyway. "I-I dursen't wants to give it to you, begging your pardon Mr New Little Pip. It's my scav and I wants to keep it."

"I need It!" Merry came forward quickly this time and grabbed Bloggin by the arm, twisting it up behind the orc's back in a tight hold. He caught hold of the rag string and ripped it over Bloggin's head. Then, pushing the orc roughly away, pulled the Ring from It's improvised necklace and pushed It onto his finger – and vanished.

{}{}{}{}{}{}

Legolas shook his head as he withdrew from the link with Pippin, leaving Faramir and Éowyn to control the hobbit's pain. He climbed unsteadily to his feet; the long time spent lying injured had taken its toll. Still stiff and aching from his own hurts, he pulled back the tent flap to join Gandalf, Gimli and Aragorn in their debate. But before he reached the group Legolas suddenly fell to his knees, his hands to his head as if in dreadful pain. The other three hurried over, anxious that the elf had risen from his sickbed far too early.

"Legolas!" Gimli blustered. "You're pushing yourself too far. You need to lie down again."

"Nooooo!" Legolas rocked to and fro on his knees, his face still buried in his hands. "Noooo Merry! Don't! For pity's sake Noooo!"

-TBC-

**Author's Notes:**

Wanted to mention here, that I was horrified by the scene in the film when Aragorn cuts off the Mouth of Sauron's head. This would not be a very noble action, especially since he was under a flag of truce. Therefore, let's pretend it never happened. It certainly didn't happen in the Book!

Also, the "elf rune" inserted above is obviously wrong - but it will have to serve. You trying putting an elf rune on fan fiction dot net!

Thank you for reviewing as well as reading! Here are some, hopefully helpful answers to questions, or comments if you have no questions.

**Lauderdale**: Sorry I broke your brain. I guess you'd have to be S. Holmes to spot it, but it is there. In "The Pieces Are Moving" Chapter 137/45, Sniggin reports to Gandalf, "He's got a funny white stone what looks like it's been 'ollered out and some strips o' cloth, a bit o' metal what's grubby but…"

See – right there on the end, only Gandalf interrupts him as he is anxious for Bloggin to show Merry what he has found. Also, Gandalf is not actually "in" Bloggin's mind at this time, but is relying on Sniggin's reports. The Ring (the true Ring) is exerting pressure on Frodo and the rest to believe that they have the right ring, but now that they are taken and the stupid wights and wraiths missed Bloggin, since he had no knowledge of what he had, the Ring needs to get back and is trying to ensnare Merry accordingly.

**Pip4** asks "when they get Frodo caught up in all this will he speak like Legolas and Faramir or one of the hobbits?"  
**Answer:** He already did mindspeak, but it was way back in chapter 109/17 and yes, because he has some understanding of Sindarin, his speech is not nearly as muddled as the other hobbits' mindspeak.

**ebbingnight **welcome to the story – glad you liked the chapter title, hope you liked the rest.

**Pippinfan**: " Pippin could charm the cream out of milk" Like that analogy!

**Marigold: "** The way that you ended this chapter was absolutely, totally perfect!!"  
See, when you say stuff like that it makes me think – "How did I end it?"


	55. Virtutis Fortuna Comes

**Virtutis Fortuna Comes**  
**Chapter 147/55**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

Sauron had realised immediately that none of His prisoners carried the Ring, although one of them mistakenly believed he had destroyed It. Their unconscious bodies had been ruthlessly searched as soon as they arrived at the Dark Tower. He had even interrogated the Nazgûl who had borne them thither, to discover if any other living creature had touched them en route, even though that was extremely unlikely, as such an action would have spelled, not instant death, but prolonged torture which would have lasted the rest of their lives and beyond.

He was also aware that all of these creatures had carried His Ring at some time; He could sense It on each of them. But, in spite of probing their minds with their own dreams He did not believe that they were completely unaware of where the Ring was now. In particular He knew that the smallest one, the one they called 'Pippin', had carried It the most recently. However, extreme physical torture might well kill these feeble creatures and then the Ring could be lost forever.

But now He could bide His time. They were locked up in His dungeon and eventually He would force the truth from them. Once He had the interfering elf He would compel it to mind probe the small one far more deeply and penetratingly than He Himself had been able to without causing damage. He had heard them speak in their minds many times before and so He knew it would be simple enough.

He could afford to exchange the servant as He would still have the other, the one that was saturated with the resonance of His Ring, to use as leverage. Apart from which, He had no desire to kill this one – it needed to suffer. He knew that this was the one, the Baggins, that had kept His Ring from Him for so long. It would suffer like no other creature had suffered at His hands before!

So wrapt was the Dark Lord in malevolent thoughts of revenge and the retribution he would eventually visit upon these wretched, interfering worms, He failed to notice the most consequential worm of all.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Meriadoc Brandybuck had a reputation for being lucky, although he would always argue that what others saw as _'luck'_ was actually more to do with careful planning and astute negotiation.

Also, what some hobbits saw as 'luck', Merry saw as a distinct disadvantage. In particular, growing up he had been inundated with the most expensive toys, usually of dwarven make and frequently quite inappropriate for his age. That he had always shared these with a liberalness verging on lack of interest, only contributed further to the talk that he was lucky and sometimes even whispers that he was "spoiled".

Every other year Merry was presented with a new pony and, by the time he reached his majority, had built up quite a string. He frequently pointed out that he did not need any more ponies, but his Grandfather insisted.

He was taught by the best and cleverest, with tutors often brought in from Michel Delving or even Bree, so by the time he was twelve he could read and write to an adult standard and could even manage differential calculus. But Merry endured rather than enjoyed his lessons and would have much rather been playing in the fields with his less well educated cousins.

Merry actually resented the largesse of his Grandfather who insisted on heaping him with every advantage possible, particularly as it caused so much conflict with his father. They both loved the lad to distraction but had very different ideas about how that love should be demonstrated. Merry, caught in the middle, found it stressful and difficult as he in turn adored them both. But it had taught him a great deal about negotiating and diplomacy.

Nevertheless, folk who did not fully understand the situation saw Meriadoc Brandybuck as a very lucky lad – with all the advantages about which most hobbits could only dream. Frodo was probably the only one who truly understood the problems he suffered and to some extent Bilbo, which was why Merry spent as much time at Bag End as he could. By the time Pippin came along, Merry was already dealing with the situation and so never bothered his younger cousin with such things. In fact, Pippin was one of those who just thought Merry was incredibly lucky.

There were other things too. Merry always won at the coconut shy at the Midsummer Free Fair, a very tricky shy by Men's standards, as hobbits were particularly good at shying. What he never told, was that he always slipped the stall holder a few coppers to make sure the third coconut from the left would be easier to dislodge when he took his turn.

Likewise, Merry always won the annual raffle. But again, what he did not tell, was that he bought ten times more tickets than anyone else did and always from different vendors. Merry had learned to adapt the unwritten rules in order to win.

Even before he came of age he had proved himself to be astute in all dealings where property and land were concerned, buying up rights to various farms without actually purchasing them, thereby securing expansion for the future, while at the same time safeguarding the tenure and gratitude of local farmers.

In business he could always negotiate a better price and had a good nose for market trends. He knew how to capitalise on new innovations or to stay away from fads that would lose money.

When Frodo had needed to move to Buckland it was Merry who got him an excellent price for the house in Crickhollow – just as Frodo knew he would. Although even Frodo was slightly surprised that Merry had provided six ponies and all the provisions for their journey with such astounding efficiency. But then, Frodo had reflected, if any hobbit could have accomplished that – and in secrecy – it was Merry! Then again, Merry was relieved that his string of ponies eventually came in useful, to say nothing of his vast horde of coin which he seldom mentioned but kept to hand for such an occasion.

So, contrary to popular belief, Meriadoc Brandybuck was not especially lucky, just very astute, with a nose for negotiation and an exacting upbringing that had instilled in him a need to succeed at whatever he did.

Except this day he was lucky. Incredibly lucky!

When he had slipped the Ring on his finger, Merry had been driven by a frantic need to rescue Pippin and Frodo and Sam, he had not really thought about the consequences of such a desperate act. The Ring had called to him; in fact when he had first spotted It around Bloggin's neck It had been glowing golden. But when Smagnu had plucked him away, the Ring had turned base once more. But again, when he snatched It from the orc, It had turned to a brilliant, shimmering gold and every sinew in his being had screamed at Merry to put It on.

The bleak terrain around him faded and a new world bore him up until he stood six foot tall and knew that nothing could now stand in his way or resist him. The Ring was heavy – heavier than anything he had ever encountered before, but it mattered little, since a great strength pulsed through his whole being, making the burden a minute detail.

Meriadoc Brandybuck The Magnificent – Master of Buckland and the Shire, Conqueror of Death and Slayer of the Witch-king of Angmar and the terrible Shelob, would march to Barad-dûr and its great doors would open at his command. There he would demand the release of his own and cast down all who defied him.

Only one thing remained – a small, terrified voice in his head. It screamed at him, "No! No! No!" He would have ignored it; this impertinent intrusion that dared to challenge him, but it was familiar and it knew his name. It addressed him as "Merry".

_'Listen Merry, listen to me!'_

_'What? Why you do go talk at Me?'_

_'You have to take It off! You have been lucky so far. He is not watching you. He is preoccupied with the others. Now take It off before it is too late!'_

Meriadoc Brandybuck was about to dismiss the pleading tone, but then another small voice inside him whispered, so faintly he could barely hear it. _'you are just merry, don't listen to the lies Meriadoc the Magnificent is telling you. listen to your heart.'_

There it was – a small flicker of doubt. He stared into the swirling mists that had filled his world from the moment he had put the Ring on his finger. He saw a tall figure clad in blazing red gold armour. Thick golden locks flowed from under his shining helm and in his left hand he bore a great banner emblazoned with an imposing bridge that spanned a mighty river, the heraldic device of the Brandybucks, and in his right he wielded a flaming sword. He was seated upon a fierce white stallion and, as he watched, the beast reared up and pawed the air, steam like smoke rose from its nostrils as it brayed defiance at the world.

Beside the imposing figure he saw a small hobbit, with a snub nose, brown curls and a wide grin. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he perched on a bar stool. In his left hand he held a long clay pipe and in his right a tankard of ale, from which he quaffed with obvious enjoyment. In the background were other hobbits, all drinking ale and laughing and singing. One of them stepped forward and spoke. It was Pippin.

"This is you, Merry," the vision of Pippin said. "Now stop being silly and take It off!"

Merry shook his head and the images faded. He looked down at his hand and at last realised the enormity of what he had done. He pulled the Ring from his finger and sank to the ground.

The first thing that greeted him was Smagnu's rough voice. "Where the fug did you disappear to?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"We must accept the trade," Legolas having finally been able to leave Merry to his own devices, had listened carefully to the proposal of swapping him for one of the hobbits. "There is no doubt that it will be to our advantage."

"But how?" Gimli was perplexed at his response. "You are only just up from your sick bed and now you're proposing to go marching off into the hands of the Dark Lord."

"Gimli speaks the truth," Aragorn ventured. "Also they will probably try to exchange Sam, and that will be hard for him, to leave his master behind."

"It is not so much the exchange which is important," Legolas had not yet had time to explain his encounter with Merry. "It is more my need to get into Mordor, which, if we are to save the Quest, is now vital."

"Why?" Gandalf asked. "What has occurred?"

"Something which will explain the need for this action," Legolas looked carefully around and then lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have located the Ring."

"Well that's a good thing," Gimli frowned. "Is it not?"

"That depends on where It is," Gandalf pointed out. "I hope It's not with one of the captives. I'm guessing that Merry has It?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "It is indeed with Merry and he has just had a very lucky escape."

"But where was It?" Aragorn said. "Did he just find It on the ground?"

"No," Legolas explained quickly. "I believe It was with the little orc, Bloggin, but Merry seized It from him. He thinks he can use It to save the others, but I managed to persuade him to take It off."

"Good Grief!" Gandalf was horrified. "Do you think he will try such a thing again?"

"I do not know for certain," Legolas admitted. "That is why I need to go into Mordor."

"But can't you just tell him to throw It into the Cracks of Doom?" Gimli's tone became exasperated. "He must be close enough."

"Peace, Gimli, my friend," Legolas placed his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "If I were to suggest such a thing in mindspeak, there is a very good chance that Sauron will become immediately aware of the Ring and Its new bearer. Merry was incredibly lucky just now, as were we all. There is no reason to suppose that such luck would hold."

"Added to which," Gandalf had regained his calm. "He may be very reluctant to do so. He will know that the final destruction of the Ring will bring about the downfall of Barad-dûr, at least he may well suspect as much, and that annihilation would take the other hobbits as well."

"Then what will you do?" Gimli asked. "There seems little chance of rescuing the hobbits now, and even if you did, what chance is there of you all getting out of Barad-dûr alive?"

"Very little," Legolas admitted. "Nevertheless, I have to try."

"Hrrumph!" Gimli coughed as though embarrassed. "At the very least I'm coming with you!"

"You my friend," he smiled at Gimli, "will be invaluable in offering support to Faramir and Éowyn. They need to keep in contact with the hobbits and to absorb their pain for as long as possible. If they break contact now, I doubt they will be able to regain it without my help."

"I shall help them and guard them with the strength of a thousand dwarves," Gimli vowed. "Although they do seem to be working rather well together at the moment."

"What about me?" Sniggin was lurking behind Gandalf, not sure where else to be at the moment. "I'se could help yer find me bruvver!"

"Thank you for the offer, but I will go alone," Legolas said in a kindly voice to the willing little orc. "I do not want to have to worry about anyone else."

"If you are set upon this," Gandalf said. "How should we manage it and what will you require?"

"There is nothing I need, except my wits and some of Merry's good fortune," Legolas smiled. "Except, Mithrandir, would you please teach me how to whistle?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin was trusting to luck, he had his fingers crossed and his toes as well, a neat trick, and one not many hobbits could manage. Even so, he stumbled as he crossed the cell flagstones.

"Theys mostly prob lookted and lookted at we beds," he muttered to himself. "Not no chances really got be here, but we go looks at it, just in cases."

For a good twenty minutes Pippin searched under the mattress, inside the mattress, over every inch of the wooden frame, even lifting the wooden planks that formed the base of the cot. He was about to give up but, as he began to replace the first plank, something on the floor under the bed glinted in the dim light from the grille in the door.

"It go be!" He gasped in excitement and quickly scrabbled under the bed and began scratching at the tiny piece of metal wedged in the crack between two flagstones. Eventually, with much swearing and broken nails and bruised fingers, Pippin sat up triumphantly, holding a tiny coin of mithril.

When first Pippin had wished that he had some of the mithril coins left he had not considered the possibility that there might just be one or two left in the cell. But then he wondered if perhaps he or Merry had inadvertently dropped one; after all they had been rather preoccupied at the time.

That thought had led to another and as they coalesced, Pippin decided that if he could just find one coin, then he might have the basis of a plan! He scrambled across the cell and sat down beside Sam once more.

"Sam! You is got to go waking!" Pippin patted the gardener's cheek until his eyes squinted open again.

"Do knowings that you go get lot hurting," Pippin explained quietly. "Put you hand at my faces." Without waiting for Sam to respond, he took both the grubby mitts and placed them firmly on his own cheeks, holding them there firmly, ignoring the jolt to his own injury. "Now, not go think too much and much. Let we Pippin do at think in you head."

_'framir? faramir? eow?'_

_'Pippin?'_

_'pleasing to help we sam and you can? we got go in he head and we need and need he now'_

Pippin felt, rather than heard the exchange between Éowyn and Faramir. He even stopped to wonder for a second at the smooth communication that seemed to emanate between the two as, without actual words, they agreed they could absorb more pain.

_'Yes Pippin, take what you need.'_

_'thank and thank at both you of both!'_

Gazing intently into Sam's bemused eyes, Pippin steadily, and as gently as possible, remembering how Legolas had always moved with such trepidation in his own head, felt his way through Sam's immediate thoughts. Not wishing to be overheard, he used no words but quietly stroked at the intense pain. Gradually it lessened until at last he felt a large portion of Sam's hurts flow through him and into the mindlink.

Pippin let Sam rest as he summoned up his own strength to revive Frodo. He was anxious as to how much pain his willing hosts could actually absorb before the link might be irrevocably lost. He could, as always, still feel the soft thrum of Legolas in the background, but knew that the elf must be about other important business right now as he had drawn back from the link. He could hardly feel Merry at all, which bothered him slightly, although he knew nothing terrible had actually happened to his cousin – he would have known that!

Frodo was beginning to regain consciousness, stirring slightly and groaning quietly with obvious pain. Pippin knelt beside him and closed his eyes, focussing first inward to measure the store of aches, both his and Sam's, and then outwards to determine how much Faramir and Éowyn were absorbing – it was a lot! But, then again, he not only felt the strength of the man and woman, but also was taken aback at how much power they had gained through combining their forces. He risked a brief word.

_'eow? faramir? you not go get more hurtings at you?'_

_'It is most well Pippin, be not fearful to add to this which we do.'_

_'Truly Pippin, we can hold this level for several hours yet and more if you wish.'_

_'frodo?'_

_'Of course!'_

_'thank and thank again at you'_

Pippin roused Sam now, who relieved of a large amount of his pain, was much recovered. Between them they lifted the unconscious hobbit to a sitting position and, wary of the still bleeding finger stump, Pippin placed Frodo's hands on his face as he had with Sam.

It took slightly longer to spread Frodo's pain into the mindlink, he was very groggy and more than a little traumatised and they had to pause halfway into the process as he needed to throw up. Luckily the bucket was handy.

Finally all three hobbits were able to sit up and, perched on the side of the cot, nibbled gingerly on their biscuits and took turns to drink from what was left in the orc-sized jug. Food, as was always the case with hobbits, had to be the first order of the day; then they would be able to think.

"Well, I suppose we'd better try and find a way out of here," Sam suggested, as if he were proposing a stroll in the woods. "Can't do no good just waiting for more bad things to happen."

"Dear Sam," Frodo actually managed a smile. "You always manage to put things in perspective. We do need to do something, but I'm not sure escape will be that easy."

"We might," Pippin whispered. He was anxious that the jailer did not hear him talking. "We go got a littlel plans, only got to listen hard at we Pippin and we got to explain it fast and fast at you."

"All right," Frodo lowered his voice too. He was not sure why Pippin was whispering but there may well be a good reason. "We're all ears."

"Hmmp!" Pippin shrugged. "They go saying that round about hobbitses all times, onerly, we not just be ears – we be brainses too!"

-TBC-

**Author's Note:  
**As always, I'll start by thanking the reviewers for their reviews. They help in so many ways. It tells me what you like and whether I'm making myself clear and, if not, gives me a chance to clarify things.

**Big Thanks** today to **Marigold**, who rode with me in Fred to the garden centre and helped me to thrash out a big, big plot point which will hopefully help to get the story to a satisfactory conclusion – eventually. We came home and had a cup of tea and did the rest on the back of an envelope – the time honoured tool of all the best innovation.

**Pip4 **"Where does an orc in Barah Dur get biscuits?"  
**Answer:** From his biscuit barrel of course! Actually, he had biscuits before and gave Pippin one each for him and Merry. He was well paid for his care, so maybe he remembers that – he's not too bright. Oh and they get them from the Quartermaster.

**GW**: You might be right to worry about Merry! True he has a plan, but no one said it was a good one! Thanks for the in-depth review – always love those!

**ebbingnight:** Nobody (apart from a rampant Mary-Sue) would do anything to Legolas without asking.

**FantasyFan:** Your understanding of the plot is immaculate! Of course there are still quite a few things that will go in different directions to what might seem obvious now, but based on the information in the story so far, you are spot-on. Thanks for the long review – I love this sort of in-depth analysis.

**The Lauderdale**: Yes I did sneak that bit in – but I wanted to surprise you! Where's the fun in you working it all out too easily?

**Pippinfan:** Glad you like Pippin's on-going development – he's still got a long way to go, as have other characters, but I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised with the final result!


	56. Recap of Recap

**A Note from Llinos...**  
If there is anybody out there still waiting, I am so, so sorry for making you wait so long! There are no excuses, except perhaps the absolute determination that I would not post another word until the whole thing was finished – that and an excessive inclination to laziness.

However, **RECAPTURED IS NOW FINISHED!**

Honestly, no more breaks or gaps of two or three years – the whole story is complete, all I have to do is post it. But it won't be over that quickly as there are in excess of 70,000 words to add before the saga is finally resolved.

I must here, mention the amazing help and fortitude of Marigold – my faithful beta, who harangued, bullied and encouraged me to finish the blasted thing! As well as adding her unique style of being a brilliant sounding board for the whole process, she contributed more than I have always acknowledged to the storyline and it is hard to pick out individual parts, but, like Legolas with the hobbits in their mindspeak, she was always a gentle thrum in the background.  
**Llinos**

**A Note from Marigold...**  
It's an odd feeling that Llinos has really come to the end of this epic story! It's been my privilege to have been around for nearly the entirety of this decade-long adventure! And it's brought me on my own epic adventure as well, to a new and better life in a new country with the world's bestest best friend, a brilliant new career, and a spiffy new husband, house and mortgage! I never guessed when I innocently clicked on this wonderful story for the first time that I was about to change my life so profoundly.

Although the story hasn't been posted regularly it has never been far from our minds and I have faithfully poked Llinos on a regular basis to keep going, so it's with a mixture of relief and sadness that this epoch is coming to an end.

And now I can start harassing her to get to work on her original novel!  
**Marigold**

_In case you have forgotten much of what went on (we know we have), here is a summary of the whole story, which is being posted as a chapter in its own right._

_If you have an amazing memory (or just can't be arsed) please feel free to skip straight over this to the next actual chapter._

**Recap of Recap  
A Brief **(ahem)** Summary**  
**by Llinos**  
**beta'd by Marigold**

_The first part of the story is to be found under Recaptured Part I_

This is an alternative universe story in which everything is the same as the book up until Merry and Pippin, wandering around Fangorn Forest during the Entmoot, eat some soporific mushrooms, fall asleep and are recaptured by the Uruk hai.

They are taken to Saruman, who tries to extract information from them regarding the whereabouts of the One Ring. When they fail to help him he offers them in tribute to Sauron, via the Nazgûl. But before this he casts bewitchment on them in anger, leaving Pippin without hearing or speech and Merry blind.

He leaves them on Orthanc tower but the Ents break in and Gandalf finds them. He carries Pippin down, intending to come back for Merry. Before he returns the Witch King arrives and, although Théoden tries to protect Merry, he is almost taken, but saved at last by the scrap of Gandalf's cloak which was around his shoulders and which burns the Nazgûl when he touches it.

Gandalf then decides to send Merry off at once to Meduseld, as he is in great danger. The two riders who escort him, Drâmym and Ŭnomer, find Merry "foreign" and hard to understand, as does a travelling circus owner who tries to buy him.

The three are later attacked by orcs and Ŭnomer is pulled off his horse while Merry is carried off by the other horse bolting with a badly wounded Drâmym. Merry manages to pull the arrow from Drâmym and keeps him warm. But the travelling circus passes by and the owner, Spandif, kidnaps Merry and puts him in a cage as an exhibit.

In the meantime, because Pippin is so badly hurt and cannot communicate, Legolas uses his elven telepathic powers to speak to him. He finds that the hobbit can understand him very well, although Pippin, and later Merry, both have difficulty speaking via telepathy because it is rendered in Elvish. Later when Frodo communicates telepathically, his speech is better because of his knowledge of the language.

Aragorn, in tending Pippin, gives him poppy paste, which is an opiate, to kill the pain, but is highly addictive, which causes various problems later.

Arriving at Meduseld, all are devastated to discover that Merry is missing, but Pippin, whilst exploring with some children, finds him in the cage and he is rescued.

As Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli prepare to go off to war, Legolas manages to assist Merry and Pippin to communicate with each other via Elven telepathy. They become quite adept at mindspeak (as they call it) and eventually are able to communicate over distance.

Which is just as well, as Pippin looks in the palantír (as in the book) and the Nazgûl is now aware of his location and comes for him and Merry. Wormtongue endeavours to assist in this, hoping to gain favour with either Saruman or Sauron. In the event, only Pippin is taken.

Pippin is initially left in the charge of a fearsome Uruk named Smagnu and a slightly smaller, bandy-legged orc named Grutfley. Grutfley tortures Pippin, as that is his job, to soften him up. But Legolas and Merry are able to absorb much of the pain through their mindlink with Pippin.

He is questioned by Sauron, but is so terrified that the Dark Lord can learn nothing from him. In temper, He orders the hobbit's destruction, and tells the guard to throw him to the orc soldiery.

Merry is in contact with him via mindspeak and believes Pippin is about to die.

However, Smagnu, who had charge of Pippin before he was taken to Sauron, remembers that he was given orders to keep the halfling safe and in good working order and hauls him to safety. Because he is such a large creature no other orc is about to argue with him. Smagnu is very single minded and also rather bloody minded about his charge and starts to view Pippin as, at first a pet, and then with a certain amount of awe as he keeps doing (albeit accidentally) quite impressive _magickal_ things.

Smagnu begins to realise that he was not supposed to have kept Pippin, but now doesn't want to give him up, especially as he has taught him to steal from the quartermaster's stores and found for him a horde of mithril coins in a drain. He also decides to give the odd silent little creature a name and coincidentally calls him Pip!

Merry is determined to go after Pippin, by whatever means he can (which aren't many) but he is subsequently kidnapped by Wormtongue, whose henchmen also shoot and wound Legolas.

The henchmen renege on the deal and desert Wormtongue with his prisoner. Wormtongue finds it difficult to manage Merry alone. Also, the hobbit is being pursued by Legolas and Éowyn, who are using mindspeak to ascertain his whereabouts.

When Wormtongue attempts to drag Merry behind his horse (being unable to lift him into the saddle) Merry is kicked in the head by a flying hoof.

The Witch King finds them just before Legolas and Éowyn can rescue Merry and the hobbit is taken to Sauron. However, because of the blow to his head Merry has no memory and does not even know his own name and, consequently is of no use as a source of information.

Sauron tells the guard to lock him up and he ends up in Smagnu's care. The only thing Merry can remember is the name Pip and he tells Smagnu that must be his own name, which is why Smag calls Merry, "New Little Pip". In order to hide Pippin, Smagnu locks them both in the dungeon, in the care of the gaoler.

From there they are both taken to Sauron again and, through the horror of it, Merry's memory returns, but Sauron's mind is too brutal and overpowering for them and he and Pippin lose consciousness. Sauron orders the Witch King to interrogate them when they revive and, once he has learned all, to kill them.

Now Merry's memory has returned he realises that, in order to protect Frodo and Sam and the location of the One Ring, they have no option but suicide. In order to achieve this, Pippin manages to persuade Grutfley to take him pilfering in the quartermasters once more where he steals enough poppy juice to kill them both.

Although they swallow the opiate the orcs catch them in time and, fearing reprisals if their charges kill themselves before the Witch King has dealt with them, manage to revive them.

Smagnu then has an epiphany! That they would be willing to kill themselves strikes him as astonishing and he decides that he will take the hobbits out of Barad-dûr and set them free. As he is collecting supplies to carry out his plan, Grutfley jumps him and accuses him of betrayal and tries to kill him. After some scuffling, they agree to join forces and together they rescue the hobbits and set off across Mordor with them.

But they are intercepted by a battalion of orcs, the leader of which is an old enemy of Smagnu's. His orcs shoot Smagnu and he then takes the hobbits captive and sets off for Cirith Ungol, arriving with Merry and Pippin just before the battle which enables Sam to rescue Frodo.

The orc that had captured Merry and Pippin is killed in the battle, but the two hobbits hide under a table, only venturing out when everyone seems dead.

When Merry hears a movement they plan an attack and together pounce, only to find it is, in fact, Samwise.

The four hobbits are briefly reunited in the Tower of Cirith Ungol and eventually go their separate ways; Frodo and Sam on towards Mount Doom while Merry and Pippin take the path out of Mordor that brought Frodo and Sam in.

But they encounter Gollum, who leads Merry on to Shelob in recompense for his failed offering of Frodo. Pippin manages to get there just in time and is injured saving Merry's life.

After a traumatic battle, Merry, with Pippin's help, plus some telepathic assistance from Legolas, manages to kill the giant spider and the two hobbits wearily make their way to safety, being met half way by Legolas and Éowyn, who have now teamed up with Faramir and his men. In spite of his injuries, Pippin manages to save Faramir's life when the would-be rescuers are ambushed by enemy forces.

Once safely out of Mordor, Merry and Pippin realise sadly that they must separate again to avoid being recaptured by the Witch King and Pippin goes with Legolas and Faramir to Minas Tirith, while Merry rides with Éowyn, who has been joined by our old friends Drâmym and Ŭnomer, to join Théoden and Éomer who are riding to Gondor's aid.

Meanwhile, Smagnu has, with Grutfley's help, survived being shot and they, for want of a better plan, take up with the troops that are marching towards the battle plain. But, by chance, they encounter Frodo and Sam in their disguise as orc soldiers, and help the hobbits to keep up and eventually escape.

As Pippin approaches Minas Tirith, the party are assailed by the Witch King and in the ensuing fight Legolas and Faramir are both wounded, although Pippin manages to hold off the attack by using his half of the magic Elven rope which Sam had given to him and Merry. Ultimately they are rescued by Gandalf and finally enter Minas Tirith.

Meeting Denethor, he is hostile to Gandalf, but concerned with Pippin especially when he learns that he was present at his son Boromir's death. Perversely he agrees to hand control of the City to Legolas (rather than Gandalf) on condition they leave Pippin with him. Reluctantly Pippin agrees.

0-0-0-0-0-0

_Here is where the first part of Recaptured ends and the story recommences here in Recaptured Continued._

**Recap of Recaptured Continued...**  
**by Llinos**  
**beta'd by Marigold**

Legolas has tentatively taken charge of the City, but is relying on Gimli and Gandalf for advice and assistance.

Denethor is very taken with Pippin and bestows a knighthood on him. But then, in order to see the death of Boromir more clearly, he forces Pippin to look into his palantír with him and then nearly burns him on his own suicide pyre.

Merry reaffirms his loyalty to Théoden who is impressed by his bravery and tenacity.

After mentally helping Merry and Éowyn in their battle with the Witch King, Pippin regains his hearing and speech, although it is now very strange and wobbly. With the demise of the Witch King, Merry also broke free from Saruman's spell and regained his sight. He was initially thought to be dead, lost in the abyss with his foe, but is brought back by the spirit of Boromir.

In other news, Smagnu and Grutfley, conscripted into the Black Army, are trying to work out how to keep themselves and their now-loyal battalion alive in the forthcoming battle and Frodo has been telling Sam how he thinks he sometimes hears Pippin's voice in his head.

As the Armies of the West march upon the Black Gate, Gandalf uses Pippin as bait for Sauron by making him appear to be the Ringbearer in order to give Frodo a better chance. To add to the deception, Gimli forges a gold ring and they hang it about Pippin's neck while he sleeps.

Merry recovers from his battle with the Witch King in Minas Tirith, nursed by Éowyn (assisted by Faramir) and Dysgwr, one of the City's Healers, but still has not seen Pippin after regaining his sight as Pippin had left for the battle before Merry regained consciousness. He has not had the chance to verbally speak with Pippin either and the two hobbits were forbidden by Gandalf to mindspeak, as that may lead Sauron's Eye to Minas Tirith instead of the Black Gate.

Aragorn uses the palantír to confront Sauron but has Pippin join him at the same time to reinforce him as Ring bait. In the process Pippin's mind finds Frodo's.

Gandalf's plan begins to backfire after the power of Frodo's Ring, frantically looking for escape from the fires of Mount Doom, finds a link with Pippin (who It remembers from an encounter Bilbo had with Pippin when Pippin was small) and manages to form a conduit of sorts with the youngest hobbit.

Gandalf has Legolas send a mind message to Éowyn to tell Merry to mentally contact Sam to tell Frodo not to mindspeak with Pippin as it may lead Sauron to Frodo. So they do.

Pippin becomes mistrustful of Gandalf and Aragorn, believing that he actually has the One Ring and that they want to take It from him. He also starts to become delusional and paranoid, his already muddled speech starting to sound like Gollum.

Legolas and Pippin are mindspeaking to perpetrate the deception that Pippin is the Ringbearer, but Sauron hears and then attacks them on the mental plane they occupy. Legolas is blinded and struck mute but before his hearing can be taken, Merry and Éowyn, mentally combined as one mighty warrior, intervene and save him. They in turn are brought back to the living world by Faramir's unwitting intervention. Pippin determines that he needs to try to take his Ring to Mount Doom and destroy It.

Frodo and Sam shut out Pippin's mental voice by playing rhyming games.

Faramir keeps getting jealous twinges over Éowyn's friendship with Merry.

Merry and Éowyn, having been in mind contact with Pippin, now know that he thinks he is the Ringbearer and that he no longer trusts Gandalf or Aragorn and will try to go to Mount Doom. They believe they must stop him, but cannot deliver this message through mindspeak to Legolas or Pippin as Sauron or the Nazgûl might overhear. Théoden agrees that Éowyn and Faramir will ride out to catch up and stop Pippin doing anything untoward.

Merry, with the help of Éowyn and Faramir, manages to escape his healer Dysgwr and King Théoden, to accompany them.

Théoden is angry when he finds Merry gone as Dysgwr had been, on Gandalf's orders, dosing Merry with opium to keep his mind shielded from the Nazgûl. He sends Drâmym, Ŭnomer and Dysgwr after him with orders to bring him back or at least dose him up again.

Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam are battling with rock falls and unexpected deluges and then Frodo begins to realise that the Ring is losing some of Its power and that the power is transferring to Pippin. Frodo can still hear some of Pippin's thoughts, though he is careful not to answer him.

Gandalf regrets his ploy now as it seems to be getting out of control and tries to take the faux Ring back from Pippin, but Pippin will not relinquish It as he still believes It to be the true Ring and that Gandalf wants It for himself. Although Pippin declares he just wants to continue as bait, he is in fact determined to attempt the destruction of his Ring.

Meanwhile, beyond the Black Gate, Smagnu and Grutfley and Sniggin and Bloggin and Co are preparing for the battle. They have been given charge of Groll the Troll.

Gandalf learns from Aragorn's experience with Pippin and the palantír, that Pippin had actually touched the Ring when he was a child. This puts a different complexion on things and Gandalf is horrified to learn the fact, as it means the Ring may well have found Pippin again.

Sauron, after His encounter with Pippin, Legolas and Merry/Éowyn is certain now of where the halfling is that carries His Ring.

Nazgûl fly over the army's camp and Pippin runs out to show himself, planning to order the Nazgûl to take him to Mount Doom. Legolas and Gimli rush to protect him and manage to hold the attack off until Gandalf arrives and, using the flame of Anor, repels the wraith. With the enormous surge of power that the wizard uses, more of the Ring's power transfers from Frodo's Ring to Pippin's.

Aragorn and Gandalf realise that Pippin's Ring has become more powerful and attempt again to take It from him. This results in a skirmish ending with Pippin putting his Ring on to try and escape. Although visible to Gandalf, Aragorn, (because of who he is and their connection through the palantír) and Legolas (who can now see what is in the Shadow World and naught else) he becomes invisible to Gimli. Gandalf finally persuades Pippin to take the Ring off – but agrees that he should keep It.

Frodo now realises for certain that Pippin's Ring has to be destroyed along with his Ring as the power has divided between the two Rings. He sends a message, via Sam to Merry to tell Pippin this. Merry can't do this using mindspeak, in case he is overheard, so it becomes imperative that he reaches Pippin.

Gandalf realises how firmly Pippin is attached to his Ring now, but hopes that once Frodo has destroyed his Ring, Pippin's will fail too. In the meantime he believes he must prevent Pippin from trying to go to Mount Doom. They try to persuade Pippin to speak normally, and finally he manages to say, "I miss Merry."

Whilst hurrying to meet with Pippin at the Black Gate to carry him the message that he must destroy the faux Ring that has been put round his neck, Merry is snatched by a fell beast after Faramir manages to slay the Nazgûl that is riding it. Ŭnomer uses Merry's piece of magic rope, that Dysgwr had brought along from Minas Tirith, to lasso the fell beast in a failed attempt to rescue Merry from its clutches. Faramir, Éowyn, Dysgwr, Drâmym and Ŭnomer are unable to save him and race to let Aragorn and Gandalf know what has happened and to deliver Merry's message.

Back in Mordor, Frodo and Sam decide to wait for Pippin to arrive after managing to decipher a mindspeak message from Merry. But they are then joined by Gollum, still in pursuit of the Ring. They also encounter the Mouth of Sauron's entourage, who are on their way to the Black Gate. The men capture Gollum, but fail to see Frodo and Sam, who are hiding. Frodo decides to rescue Gollum, using the Ring.

Meanwhile, Merry escapes being eaten, in part thanks to his possession of the magic rope. He is finally taken from the fell beast by the orcs and used by the Mouth of Sauron to try to deceive Aragorn into believing they have Frodo prisoner. However, Pippin spots the deceit and tells his companions that it is in fact Merry. He is dressed in Frodo's mithril vest and armed with Sam's sword as part of the attempted deceit. Merry is eventually befriended by one of his captors, Majdi Rann, a servant of the Mouth of Sauron.

After the embassy with the Mouth of Sauron, the two armies engage in battle. Smagnu and Grutfley, together with Sniggin and Bloggin and their Blue Rainbow Battalion, march forward with Groll the Troll as part of Sauron's army. But they resist killing, although Groll attacks Legolas who is about to kill the Uruk protecting it when Pippin stops him. Gimli then attacks the troll, which falls on Legolas, crushing, but not killing him. Pippin has recognised Smagnu, the Uruk who rescued him and Merry from Barad-dûr, as the orc Legolas tried to kill and now, reunited with his Uruk, gets Smagnu to rescue Legolas from beneath the troll.

A truce in the battle is then called, as the Mouth of Sauron realises, with the finding of Merry, that he may yet manage to discover the halfling who bears his Master's Ring. Gandalf and Aragorn accept the truce as they also hope it will give Frodo more time. They withdraw from the battlefield, but take with them the "captured" Blue Rainbow Battalion of orcs led by Pippin's Smagnu.

Legolas, badly hurt with a broken arm and other internal injuries, manages to mindspeak and find Merry and brings him a little comfort. But his pain causes him to accidentally drag Éowyn and Pippin into his mind at the same time and they too feel Merry and know that he is alive.

Aragorn and Gandalf are summoned to another parley and this time, they are greeted by the sight of Merry hung from the Black Gate. They are told they may take him back if they accept the 24 hour armistice. Gandalf wishes to accept, but they will only release Merry to him – alone. Gandalf realises this is because they want him to leave Pippin, who they believe to be the true Ringbearer, alone and unguarded.

In order to thwart this plan, and to execute their own plan of getting Pippin to Mount Doom with his portion of the Ring, Gandalf disguises Bloggin as Pippin and takes him on Windfola to release Merry. At the same time, Smagnu takes Pippin, seated on Shadowfax, to a postern gate posing as captor and captive. Although Pippin has been warned by Gandalf not to attempt to rescue Merry, he of course tells Smagnu they will.

However, Gandalf is assaulted on the Dagorlad Plain and left for dead by the orcs, who capture Bloggin, believing him to be the Halfling their Master seeks. Although Gandalf's unconscious body is retrieved, because during the physical assault he was also attacked by Sauron, his mind fled and hid within Bloggin's consciousness. This now suits the Wizard well, as he is able, once Bloggin is reunited with Smagnu, to keep an eye on the hobbits as well.

Smagnu and Pippin, having rescued Merry, set off with Bloggin in tow towards Mount Doom. They take a short break as Merry is still sick and unwell.

Shortly afterwards, Majdi Rann, having handed Merry over to Smagnu previously, believing the Uruk to be the messenger from Barad-dûr, sets off to rescue Merry as he promised he would.

In pursuit of him are the remainder of the servants of the Mouth of Sauron, the orcs deciding they want nothing more to do with these magickal and bewitched creatures.

Meanwhile, Gollum, in a confrontation with Frodo, manages to touch the rift made by Gandalf when much of the Ring's essence escaped before to Pippin's faux Ring. Because of the deep emotion of the moment, Gollum becomes entwined in Frodo's consciousness and now they are linked, much to Frodo's dismay.

Gollum is now racing to meet "The Pippin" intent upon murder. Frodo and Sam are chasing after him, both fearing for Pippin's safety, afraid that he may be harmed by Gollum or, even more likely, by Frodo himself.

Back at the rock, Pippin and Merry are saved from marauding orcs by Bloggin (who is bemusedly being manipulated by Gandalf) and Pippin finally realises that it is Gandalf who is controlling the little orc. Smagnu returns with some purloined horses and they travel onwards, only to have to stop once more due to Merry's poor condition. Bloggin/Gandalf insists that Merry will have to be left behind but Pippin isn't having it.

_As we get closer to the end, the next part of the summary will be chapter by chapter so that those wishing to check back may easily find the references.  
_**_Llinos_**

**Chapter 39**  
Majdi Rann, who is being chased by his former colleagues, is chasing Smagnu. Frodo is chasing Pippin and Sam is chasing Frodo. Pippin suspects Bloggin is channelling Gandalf, Majdi catches up and attacks Smagnu in an attempt to "rescue" Merry from him.

While Majdi and Smagnu fight, Éowyn and Gimli listen to Legolas who is listening to Gandalf, listening to Bloggin.

Frodo arrives and attacks Pippin.

**Chapter 40**  
Merry tries to stop Frodo and is attacked by Gollum. Gandalf orders Bloggin to separate Frodo and Pippin but he disobeys Gandalf to go to Smagnu's aid as Majdi's pursuers have arrived. Sam arrives and rescues Merry from Gollum. Frodo has a flashback. When Merry and Sam manage to look, Frodo and Pippin have vanished and Gollum wails he can no longer "feel" Frodo in his head.

**Chapter 41**  
Sauron, aware that the Ring is divided, finds Gandalf within the small consciousness that is Bloggin.

Eroo, Pippin's "imaginary" childhood friend, intervenes between Frodo and Pippin and, with their co-operation, coalesces the Ring back into One. He then, while they are unconscious because of the effects of the coalition, transports them closer to Mount Doom.

Merry manages to explain to Majdi and Smagnu that they are on the same side, followed by the stunning revelation from Sam that he knows Smagnu and that he was the Uruk who had helped him and Frodo before.

Bloggin is still scurrying around, much to Gandalf's annoyance, collecting spent bolts for Smagnu to use against the three attackers who had been chasing Majdi. Gandalf finally loses patience and, taking over the orc's body, snatches the crossbow from Smagnu and dispatches one of the attackers in short order. But before he can take out the other two, the little orc drops to his knees in obvious agony.

**Chapter 42**  
Legolas, who is still lying wounded in the camp, whilst monitoring Gandalf's mind, encounters Bloggin and tries to sooth the orc into trusting Gandalf's control of him.

Frodo and Pippin regain consciousness at the foot of Mount Doom to discover that Eroo has gone and their hands have been damaged by the Ring coalescing. Pippin's ring is now blackened and dull, but the other is shining golden and lying on the ground. Pippin drops the dull ring and attempts to take the other, but Frodo stops him and insists that only he may carry It.

Gandalf is discovered in Bloggin's mind by Sauron, causing him to retreat abruptly so as not to give information of the Ring's whereabouts. As he awakens back in the camp he finds, via Éowyn, that Legolas still has contact with Bloggin, although he cannot see through his eyes as Gandalf could, nor can he understand his language.

**Chapter 43**  
We learn some history of Bloggin and Sniggin and how some strange power has helped them in the past. Bloggin is nearly overcome by the brief skirmish that took place in his head between Gandalf and Sauron, but it is over quickly and Legolas helps him recover.

Gandalf, anxious to discover what Bloggin is seeing, sends Gimli to fetch Sniggin. After a slight brawl with Grutfley, the little orc is summoned.

A badly injured Frodo reluctantly allows an equally damaged Pippin to help him on the journey up the side of Mount Doom.

**Chapter 44**  
As Bloggin comes to, mistaking Merry for an enemy, he head butts him on the nose. As Sam is tending to the injury, Gollum escapes and takes off after Frodo. The whole party then also give chase.

Frodo and Pippin (whose speech is still muddled enough to be very confusing) continue on their path up the mountainside.

Sniggin is introduced into the mindlink with Legolas and describes to Gandalf that the others are headed for Mount Doom in search of Frodo and Sam. Gandalf, acting upon this news, is to tell Aragorn that the truce is ended and the battle should recommence.

**Chapter 45**  
When the horses can go no further the party stop for food at the foot of Mount Doom. Bloggin is scavenging for what he can find and discovers Pippin's broken pipe and other bits and pieces. Gandalf tells him to show them to Merry.

As the men prepare to rejoin the battle, Grutfley is persuaded to take command of his battalion as acting Captain. Merry and Sam, with Bloggin in tow, start up Mount Doom in search of Frodo and Pippin, while Majdi and Smagnu stand guard below.

**Chapter 46**  
Grutfley's new assistant, Oi makes a hash of directing the trolls. Nevertheless, in spite of them not doing what he wants they end up in an excellent strategic position and Aragorn is so impressed with Grutfley's tactics he promotes him.

The Mouth of Sauron is admonished by his Master as he realised he does not have the halfling that he was promised. But Sauron, sensing that His Ring is close, throws his power into making the wraiths of his dead but enslaved enemies search for It. But the current Bearer is actually unaware of the Ring and so, unable to sense It they focus on Gollum and he is carried closer to Mount Doom at great speed.

As he closes in on Frodo and Pippin, they become aware first of the strange stirring caused by the wraiths and then Gollum attacks Frodo, but is held back by Pippin.

Sniggin relays to Gandalf what is happening and the wizard is relieved to learn that Pippin is sitting on Gollum while Frodo escapes.

**Chapter 47**  
A flashback chapter where Frodo, sitting at the edge of the Cracks of Doom, remembers trying to decide whether to leave Brandy Hall to live with Bilbo.

**Chapter 48**  
Merry and Sam catch up with Pippin who tells them the Ring is now one whole again and Frodo has gone to throw It in while he sits on Gollum.

But then the wights and wraiths of Sauron lift Pippin up, attempting to carry him away, thus aiding Gollum's escape whilst hampering Sam and Merry who are focussed on saving Pippin. Gollum attacks Frodo and they both fall into the chasm.

Merry, Pippin and Sam overcome the wights by singing. Bloggin reports in to Gandalf via Legolas via Sniggin. Sam discovers Frodo and Gollum gone!

**Chapter 49**  
As Frodo and Gollum fall the hobbit has an out of body experience in which he argues with Gollum to repent. When he comes to, he has not fallen, nor has Gollum, both having been buoyed up by the wights and wraiths of Sauron, who in turn alert their Master to the fact that hobbits are trying to destroy His Ring! Sauron orders them to bring "ALL THAT HAVE TOUCHED THE ONE RING!" Which they will know by looking into the minds of those at the Cracks of Doom.

Gollum finally repents and gives Frodo the Ring which he snatched during their fight. Meanwhile, as Bloggin reports this to Gandalf through his various intermediaries, Drâmym arrives with the news that the Nazgûl have turned towards Mordor and they are holding the field of conflict. Gandalf is dismayed by this fact.

**Chapter 50**  
Frodo et al realise that the Nazgûl are coming. Frodo scuffles with Gollum, gets his finger bitten off, but throws the Ring in the fire. Gollum falls on Sam's sword on purpose and then into the fire.

Pippin communicates with Legolas directly, but Gandalf realises that although the Ring is in the fire, nothing has changed. He warns the hobbits to stop mindspeaking and get out of the Cracks of Doom asap.

The wights begin to probe the minds of the group and discover resonance of the Ring in Sam, Pippin and Frodo. Pippin thinks he sees eagles coming, but then realises his mistake.

**Chapter 51**  
The wights, having probed for Ring memories, identify Frodo, Pippin and Sam who are then taken by the Nazgûl to Barad-dûr, leaving Merry and Bloggin behind.

Next we eavesdrop on the dreams of Frodo, then Sam, then Pippin. Each of their dreams is extremely pleasant but at the same time odd.

Meanwhile, a distraught Merry reports to Legolas that Frodo, Pippin and Sam have been taken. Gandalf, Éowyn and Legolas, with some help from Sniggin, try to piece together what has happened and why the destruction of the Ring did not work.

**Chapter 52**  
The dreams continue for Frodo, Sam and Pippin, but each one gradually turns to a nightmare as what appears to be Bilbo and Gandalf probes each of them to find out where the Ring has gone. As each one confesses they don't know they awake to darkness and blinding pain.

We then hear from Sauron, who knows that the hobbits have lied in their own dreams which He had implanted in them – but that they truly believe the Ring destroyed. He orders them to be kept in the dungeon for now, but He also senses that Pippin is being helped through the pain which He is inflicting by the Elf!

**Chapter 53**  
Pippin wakes to find himself back in his original gaol cell with his original gaoler in charge. Legolas is in his head helping him with the pain and he is gradually replaced by Éowyn and Faramir.

Merry and Bloggin return to Smagnu and Majdi. They explain what has happened and, as Merry is about to tell them about the Ring he suddenly attacks Bloggin.

As Legolas hands over the mind help to Éowyn and Faramir suddenly his sight and voice return.

Then we hear the Ring's pov. It had resisted being made One again as in that way lay Its destruction, but when that failed, it had taken on the appearance of being of base dull metal, knowing that the faux ring would remain shining and golden, thereby fooling the hobbits as to which ring was which. This had worked until It was picked up by a scavenging little orc who is totally oblivious to Its power.

**Chapter 54**  
The Mouth of Sauron offers an exchange of hostages – one of the hobbits in exchange for the Elf – Legolas of course.

Pippin reacquaints himself with the gaoler and, to avoid answering awkward questions pretends he still can't hear or speak. Having acquired some water (and 3 biscuits) he then tends to Sam and Frodo's injuries.

Smagnu pulls Merry off Bloggin. The hobbit then tells Smagnu and Majdi that he cannot tell them what is up as it would destroy them and that they just have to trust him. Smagnu agrees but tells Merry he can't go to Barad-dûr alone. Merry says he has a plan.

Gandalf, Aragorn and Gimli debate the Mouth of Sauron's hostage exchange and think it may be to their advantage.

There is a brief interlude where we see Sniggin discovering the value of influential friends!

Merry, while Smagnu and Majdi are out of hearing, has recognised the Ring, black and base looking, around Bloggin's neck and takes it from him by force, puts It on and vanishes.

Legolas knows what he has done and is frantic with worry for him.

**Chapter 55**  
Sauron is wrapped up in his plan to force Legolas to probe Pippin's mind (since He Himself is too powerful – like Gandalf – to do so without causing too much trauma to the small creature) and thereby discover the whereabouts of His Ring. Therefore He totally misses the fact that Merry has just put the Ring on his finger.

There is an interlude explaining how everyone sees Merry as being a lucky hobbit, although he is really just a careful planner and makes it appear like luck. However, this time he has just been plain lucky.

After a lively internal debate, with himself and Legolas, Merry sees his folly and takes the Ring off to greet a surprised Smagnu who wonders where the fug Merry vanished to.

Legolas then tells Gandalf, Aragorn et al that he has to accept the hostage exchange and will go with the Nazgûl to Barad-dûr, leaving Éowyn and Faramir, under the watchful eye of Gimli, to control the hobbits' pain.

Pippin, also with amazing luck and an in-depth search, manages to find one of the little mithril coins which he and Merry must have dropped before. He then eases Sam and then Frodo awake by introducing them to the mind link with Éowyn and Faramir, asking them to help by absorbing more pain – which they gladly do.

The chapter ends with Pippin telling Frodo and Sam that he has a littel plan!

NOW – at long last – Please read on...


	57. Pecunia non Olet

**Pecunia non Olet**  
**Chapter 148/57**

by Llinos  
beta Marigold

"Éowyn? Faramir?" The voice seemed to come from a vast distance. To Éowyn it was as if she were being called across the open plains of Rohan by a far off rider returning home. To Faramir the sound was like the cry of seabirds wheeling over the Anduin on a misty morning.

_'Shall you answer Faramir? For it is within my grasp to serve if you desire?'_

_'Indeed, take a moment Éowyn. I can hold the pain and the link alone for a short while.'_

"Yes?" Éowyn opened her eyes to see Legolas standing beside her. "I cannot be long as I have left Faramir alone with all the pain."

"I will be brief," Legolas assured her. "It is imperative that I leave here for the time being. Are you and Faramir able to manage for a few hours? You must not both break the link at once, or I doubt you will be able to regain it without my help."

"The hobbits are deeply hurt," Éowyn explained. "Frodo and Sam are both awake now and we are helping them. But Faramir is very strong and I am certain that between us we will be able to stave off the worst of their pain for several hours."

"That is good," Legolas said, ignoring Éowyn's look of concern towards him. She and he both knew he was far from healed and should not really be abroad, but this was not the time to argue about such things. "Try to stay as hidden as possible. Do not speak unless you have to. I may enter the link at some point, and then it is important that you do not speak or interact with me."

"I will remember," Éowyn smiled at Legolas and turned back to her task. "Keep safe my friend, I must return to Faramir and the hobbits now."

Legolas bade Gimli farewell and hurried out to where Aragorn was waiting with Gandalf. "I am ready," he winced slightly at a spasm from his wound, but shrugged it off. "Are you both to escort me?"

"Yes," Gandalf motioned to where three horses had been brought ready. "You did not tell them about Sam?"

"No," Legolas confirmed. "You are right, the less Éowyn and Faramir know; then the less they can inadvertently reveal. You or I will have to deal with it should there be a problem."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed." Most importantly you will have no difficulty in making the signal that I taught you?"

"I hope that it will be recognised," Legolas said. "But if not then I must find another way."

"Do not fear," Gandalf reassured him. "I have already called from here, he will come."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry was breathing fast, what had he done? He needed to calm down and think. "I-I don't know," he told Smagnu. "I sort of faded out for a moment – that is – I don't know, please don't ask me to explain."

"I ain't going to," Smagnu blinked his eyes and then squinted at Merry to see if he would vanish and reappear again. "I don't want to know – it's some powerful magick you got and I don't like it."

"I don't know what it is you have?" Majdi looked suspiciously at Merry. "But I think I see now. That's why the Great Lord wants you. You've got some kind of magic that He wants, haven't you?"

"What?" Merry said defensively. He was holding the Ring tightly in his hand and realised that both Uruk and Man must have noticed his clenched fist. "Got what? I mean, I've got nothing important, just a bit of jewellery that Pip must have dropped and Bloggin picked it up. It belonged to Pip's mother so I took it to give back to him – that's all."

"I dursen't fink it's jest..."

"Look!" Merry interrupted Bloggin quickly. He knew the Ring should not be talked about and he was running out of lies. "All I know is we've got... that is... I've got to try and get the others out of Barad-dûr before... before... all this comes crashing down round our ears!"

"Is that likely?" Smagnu sounded genuinely surprised. "Yer mean any minute now?"

Merry knew that what he should rightly do was to take the Ring and go back up the way he and Bloggin had just come and cast It into the fiery river, but he had a fearful recollection of overhearing Gandalf tell Frodo that most probably when that happened – when the Ring was unmade – the volcano itself would erupt and spew fire and death throughout Mordor and that the Dark Tower itself would crumble, killing all who were inside it. And right now, Frodo, Pippin and Sam were inside it and he was not about to let that happen.

"Yes!" Merry said urgently. "So if you could just lift me up onto Shadowfax, I'll get going." He was not sure quite how he intended to carry out the rescue, but with the Ring in his hand, Merry felt anything was possible.

"Well, if you're sure..." Smagnu lifted Merry up, but before he could put the hobbit astride the great horse, Shadowfax reared up with a mighty bellow, knocking the Uruk off his feet and sending him and Merry tumbling in a heap. The Lord of the Mearas bowed his head and then reared once more, ripping off completely the caparison that he wore.

Merry rolled over to avoid the thudding hooves, but Shadowfax bent his graceful head down to the hobbit and whickered softly. Then he straightened his neck and, with his white mane and tail flowing behind him, took off along the road they had just travelled until he was a cloud of dust in the far distance.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin kept his voice low as he outlined his plan. "Go be gaol-orc here at we and he be thinking Pippin not talkings and not go hearings no things neitherways."

"Why would he think that?" Sam asked. Then realisation slowly dawned. "You've been in here before, haven't you? When we met you in the Tower this was where you and Merry were escaping from?"

"Is," Pippin agreed briefly.

"So that means you know a way out?" Frodo whispered. His face suddenly brightened at the prospect. "You think you can get us out the same way?"

"Do," Pippin agreed again. "But we got go do little pretendings and that be Pippin still not hear no things and not speak no things at no ones. So we Pippin telling you what got go saying."

"All right," Frodo could see the sense of this so far. "What do we have to say?"

"You got go tell gaol-orc we Pippin give he mithcoin…" He held up the bent shiny coin for the other two to see, "...for he buy us poppy."

"What?" Sam voiced the puzzlement for him and Frodo. "Why?"

"It go be strong and strong medirecene… medrisens… not say word right… drink make you go bettrer?

"Medicine?" Frodo ventured.

"Is!" Pippin continued. "Is got Framir… Farmerir… not say name right and Eow… in we heads and they make we not hurtings. But when they not go be in heads soon, we go be big hurtings agrain… agains!"

"So you mean the mindlink is saving us from the pain at the moment," Frodo translated. "But, when it fails, the hurting will return so we need pain reducing medicine so that we will be able to escape?"

"What I sayed!" Pippin declared triumphantly. "Ask he gaol-orc for three bottrels, and he may go say not got big mith for get that."

"Sorry?" Even Frodo could not quite work this out. "I understand ask for three bottles, but the rest makes no sense."

"Not big mithcoin," Pippin tried again. "'Need more', he go say."

"All right," Frodo smiled at his little cousin's muddled explanation. "You think he will ask for more coins?"

"Hope will," Pippin verified. "But not he go ask more, you got go tell he can get he more and he like that much and much we thinks!"

"And how will you do that?" Sam was baffled by Pippin's whole plan so far, but Frodo seemed to believe in it. "I mean how will you get him more?"

"Go get he take we to mithplace," Pippin explained. "And we know where it be, but we got go do now or not get out more chance at we do thinks. Mithplace be same as get out place!"

"But he's not going to take us all there," Frodo pointed out. "Why would he?"

"He not," Pippin nodded in agreement. "But it only littlel bit of we plan. We got more plan to do laterer ons and we go do then."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Grubbus was snoring so loudly that he woke himself up with a start. Or at least he thought he had but then realised that it was one of his weird little rat-sized prisoners.

He was a largish orc, not at big as Smagnu, but the Uruk was exceptionally big. Nevertheless he was the same breed and he had been chosen for his current position as head gaoler mainly because he was imposing and hard to intimidate, let alone get the drop on. Like most orcs, he was selfish, greedy, inclined to violence, but, oddly enough, not spiteful – mainly because, being selfish, greedy and violent, he had no need to be.

The little ratlings he was wary of. He had strict orders that they were not to be interfered with. By that he understood, no spoiling, beating or sport and definitely no eating. Besides, he had almost come to grief the last time he had charge of two of them.

When they had somehow escaped, the charge was made that he had allowed it to happen. But fortunately for him, the sergeant laying the charge had looked the wrong way at the right moment and Grubbus had managed to rip his head off and lay the blame squarely on his victim's empty shoulders.

Added to which, Grubbus had also had a mithril coin, which he had been able to use to bribe the other investigating orc into backing up his story. He regretted the cost, since a single coin was worth a year's rations, but long-term he figured it was worth it, especially since his position was highly valued. It brought many perks, such as a relatively cushy job with no outside patrolling or even being sent to the battlefront, to say nothing of a steady supply of ginger biscuits.

As his feet fell from the stool they had been balanced on and he came fully awake, he realised that what had actually woken him was one of the little ratlings calling to him.

"Psst, Mr Gaoler Sir," Sam called through the grille. "I need to ask you something important."

"What you want?" Grubbus heaved his bulk up from the chair and lumbered over to the door. "You filled that bucket up again?"

"Err… no, I mean yes," Sam was actually balanced on Pippin's bent over back as the bucket was currently unusable due to Frodo's earlier indisposition. "We do need it emptied."

"An' yer woke me up just fer that?" The gaoler sounded quite annoyed.

"Err no… begging you pardon Sir," Sam said quickly. "My friend here has some coin to ask you to buy something with – if you'd be so kind."

"Gerroff the door then," the gaoler's ears had pricked up at the mention of coin. "I'll come an' see what he wants."

The great door swung open, almost before Sam had a chance to jump off Pippin's back, who only just managed to roll away before the heavy wood clouted him in the head. "Let's see yer coin then," the gaoler demanded. "I ain't got time to hang about on the likes of youse all day."

"In good time," Frodo nodded towards Pippin, who was scrambling to his feet. "My companion would like you to purchase some poppy for him – he has a mithril coin to pay with – three bottles he wants."

"That poison!" The gaoler shook his head, he had been caught like this before. "I ain't letting him have none of that again! Last time he tried to top hisself and his mate and look at the mess it made!"

Pippin had not quite anticipated this reaction. Quickly he moved to Frodo and took his face in his hands, his fingers on his cousin's cheeks.

_'tell he not go nuff and nuff making for die, onerly nuff make medriseen… big word not saying!'_

"Three little bottles isn't enough to kill anyone," Frodo caught on quickly. "He needs it only as medicine – I promise you."

"Weeelll?" The gaoler seemed to be wavering, so Pippin decided to clinch the deal.

_"tell he bout go get more of coin!'_

"If one coin of mithril is not sufficient," Frodo used his most naive expression. "He knows how to get you some more."

"'S'more'n my job's worth, but…" greed overcame caution and the gaoler reached forward and grabbed Pippin by the scruff. "You give me one coin now and I'm taking you wiv me to get some more – that stuff you want don't come cheap!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

There were two reasons Pippin was pleased that his new Uruk sponsor was turning out not to be as smart as his first. For one thing, when he came to the end of the rope that had been tied around his neck when the orc let him into the drain, he did not bother to go back and try to mime it was too short. He simply untied it and looped it around a handy rock and continued on his quest. Why the gaoler imagined he would not just take it off once it became inconvenient proved he was definitely lacking in the area of brain power. What did he think Pippin was? A dog? Also Pippin felt a surge of pride in the evidently superior intellect of his own Smagnude – obviously an Uruk of outstanding intelligence.

"We Smagnude not won't go trusted we like he sillimost uruk he!" Pippin muttered to himself as he pulled off his shirt and britches and stashed them in a dry place before wading into the muddy depths of the drain. "He got know he Pippin get ups to no good tricksies!"

He quickly found the place where the motherlode had been and dredged deeper into the mud there, wishing he could hold his nose and trying not to think about where the sludge had come from. Finding three little coins, he gradually moved in a wider and wider circle until he eventually discovered 15 in total, by which time Pippin knew he either had to stop searching or throw up.

"Hmm… we thinkering we got go leave all othrers coin at next time we Pippin go be throwned in Dark Lord He dungey on!" He mumbled ironically. "Onerly seems we go be make a hobbit – no not hobbit – it be habit! at it laterly in a minute.

There was some cleaner water at the beginning of the drain and Pippin used this to clean himself up as best he could. Then, finding his clothes, he carefully threaded five of the little coins into the waistband of his britches. Donning them and his shirt, he put two into a pocket, but carefully stashed five on a ledge just inside the drain entrance. Three he kept in his hand to give to the gaoler.

He was about to climb out of the drain when he remembered the rope. He had already unlooped it as he went past so now began pulling the slack towards him. It was then he heard voices just outside. Pippin settled back to listen.

"Oi Grubbus! What yer doing 'ere?"

_'Grubbus – the gaoler_ _orc had a name then.'_

"Err – I ain't doin' nuffink. What's it to yer?"

_'Not smart like Smag'_ Pippin thought. _'He would have made something up!'_

"Well I got orders to come an' get one of yer imps an' yer ain't down where yer s'pposed be."

_'Get one of us? That doesn't sound good!'_

"I'll be there in me own good time. Whatchyer want one for anyhow?"

"Orders from upstairs. They're trading one of 'em for some bleedin' helf!"

_'An Elf?_' Pippin was baffled for a moment. _'Legolas? It had to be – how odd!'_

"Which one they want then?" There was a tinge of panic in Grubbus's voice, accompanied by a slight jerk on the rope. He was obviously worried that he might have lost Pippin and would soon be in deep mire. Pippin gave a little tug back, just to reassure him.

"Lessee," there was a rustle of paper. "The one called Gamgee it says 'ere. We'll be down fer 'im in 'alf a tick. Seems 'e's gonna be traded back ter the whiteskins 'cause Lord Sauron ain't got no more use fer 'im."

_'Sam! They're going to let Sam go?'_ Pippin's brain was working on double time now. _'While it would be excellent for good old Sam to get away, that would mean Legolas would be a prisoner instead – and…'_ Pippin thought in dismay, '_…he won't fit through the drain!_

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas watched with interest as the Nazgûl circled lower and lower over the Plain of Morannon. Beside him Gandalf harrumphed with suspicion.

"They take us for fools," the Wizard growled. "This foul creature bears no hobbit – nor did I expect it to."

"There were no terms agreed for the exchange," Aragorn spoke in the low, level voice, which usually denoted danger. "But we should not suppose this enemy would deal evenly with us whatever the circumstance."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "And it is better that they believe we are fooled. Nevertheless, we must protest or else they may begin to see our purpose in this."

"We must each play our parts with care," Aragorn agreed. "They may not be easily deceived."

They rode onwards to the bluff before the Black Gate, from where Aragorn had recently commanded his army, arriving just before the Nazgûl circled one last time before landing.

"You remember the signal?" Gandalf hissed the question.

"Do not fear Mithrandir," Legolas whispered. "I have it."

"The men too are ready Gandalf," Aragorn added. "They will play their part."

But Gandalf was now leaning forward to address the Nazgûl. "Where is the halfling? This is no bargain!"

"I take the elf," the Nazgûl's creaking voice sent shudders through Legolas. "I have no halfling."

"Our bargain was to exchange Legolas, son of Thranduil, for one of the halfling prisoners," Gandalf urged his horse towards the emissary, his face like thunder. "Your Master would seek to cheat us even in this!"

"You shall have your halfling rat," the Nazgûl spat. "When I have delivered the elf to Barad-dûr."

"We have no reason to trust you or your Master," Aragorn said. "You will take our friend and release no one."

"My Master has honour," was the snarling reply. "Step away Wizard and surrender the elf!"

"Peace!" Legolas dismounted and stepped forward as agreed by the three conspirators. "I will surrender myself and trust the Lord Sauron to release the perian." He turned to the other two. "We have no other choice."

The Nazgûl reached forward to Legolas's outstretched hand and hied him up onto the fell beast. Wishing no further interaction with the Wizard or fearsome Man, the Lieutenant of Carn Dûm spurred his hideous mount into the darkening clouds and vanished from their sight.

Legolas shivered at the touch of the Nazgûl. He felt a shudder of the deadly black breath reverberate through his being and moved forward on the flying beast to distance himself from the presence of his ghostly captor. As he reached forward his hands fell on the neck of the fell beast and he sensed, with a second shock, the echo of its cacophonous mind. There was no language, just bare emotional images that translated into words in the elf's mind. _'Kill! Rip! Eat! Feed! Fly! Freedom! Feed! Young!"_

The last image jolted the Elf and he saw a piteous reflection of what the creature perhaps should have been, a mighty bird, flying free, protecting and feeding her young. But Legolas knew that the fell beast was eons removed from that existence. Nevertheless, the echo told him something else which surprised him. It was female.

-TBC-


	58. Compos Mentis

**Compos Mentis**  
**Chapter 149/58**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

The mind can be a dangerous place, peppered with pitfalls and perilous traps for the unwary and right now the mind of Meriadoc Brandybuck was a veritable accident waiting for one careless thought or incautious memory.

Majdi busied himself with the horses, not wanting to delve any deeper into the worrying events, but preferring to bide his time and see how things played out. Smagnu, however, was watching the hobbit carefully. The little creature was sitting on a rock; his eyes squeezed shut in deep concentration and his fists curled into tights balls, indicating the stress his absorbed meditation was obviously causing. The Uruk grimaced at the sight, glad that he never felt the need to bother with such a painful process. Bloggin lurked just behind Smagnu, peering out occasionally at Merry and anxiously wringing his hands together.

_'Legolas does it,'_ Merry took several deep breaths in an attempt to quiet the maelstrom of worrying thoughts. _'Think now! How is it done?'_

"Don't look at it directly," Merry spoke out loud to try and separate conscious thought from those perfidious images he was trying to suppress. "Look the other way and then glance back."

"What?" Smagnu was not sure if he was being addressed or not.

"Nothing," Merry opened his eyes briefly. "Just give me a moment and take no notice of what I say." He snapped his eyes shut once more and tried again.

"I need to listen and watch," Merry lowered his voice this time, remembering now that he himself was not unobserved. "To draw in the words and pictures but to conceal myself from those I see and hear."

Quiet now in his own marshalled thoughts, Merry imagined his mind drifting upwards until he was looking down on himself sitting on the rock. _'So far, so good,'_ he thought. Using all his determination and will to ignore the persistent clamouring of the Ring to be put on his finger, he instead remembered the sensation of being invisible. The clouds began to gather around him, wet grey and ominous, but Merry, instead of shivering at their touch, welcomed them and enveloped himself in their obscuring dank folds.

_'I can do this!_' The triumphant thought made him slip and he tumbled back towards his body sitting so still on the rock below. But Merry, realising the folly of overconfidence, reined that idea back in swiftly and grasped at a wisp of fog and climbed back up, wrapping more cloud around himself as he went.

_'You've still a long way to go,_' Merry admonished himself. _'Gently does it._' With more caution this time, he eased himself further upward until he could see over the cloud and caught sight of the louring Tower of Barad-dûr. Then he forced his vision to pierce through the stone walls until he stared into the fortress. He saw orcs patrolling the perimeter, he saw them tramping about the mess hall. Now he knew the way! Although he had been blind at the time, he remembered the dungeon and his senses were heightened enough to recall the direction. Down his thoughts flew, along a dank corridor, past the outer door, past the gaoler with his huge bunch of keys. _'Now! One final push!'_ Merry flung open the door – and there was his quarry. Three hobbits sitting together on the edge of a grimy cot. _'Found you!'_ Merry instantly quelled the feeling of triumph and sat grimly still to listen and watch.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Theys go come get we Sams!" Pippin sat between Frodo and Samwise on the cot. He needed to keep his voice really low so that the gaoler would not know he could speak. "Making an ex-stranger for he and it go be Legolas!"

"What?" Frodo could usually make out what Pippin was saying by now, but this latest piece of information had him foxed. "What do you mean – ex-stranger?"

"And what does Mr Legolas have to do with it?" Sam was equally baffled.

"It hard," Pippin frowned and tried again. "Theys – orcs we thinks…"

"Right." Frodo agreed.

"Go come here…"

"Yes."

"Get we Sams…No – go take we Sams… Sam!"

"They're going to take Sam?"

"Is!" Pippin confirmed. "Send he go home."

"Really?" Frodo found this hard to believe.

"Said – _'give he to whiteskins'_. Think that means give he to Gandalf maybe praps?"

"All right," Frodo still did not really understand. "Why?"

"They go get Legolas in… instreaded… no… in here Legolas be in here dundgeon!"

"So they are going to trade Sam for Legolas?" Frodo finally managed to decipher.

"What I sayed!"

"When?

"Go be soon and soon!"

"Better if it were you Mr Frodo," Sam suggested. "After all, I'm not much good to Sauron dead or alive."

"No, Sam…" Frodo began.

"Yes is Sams!" Pippin hissed urgently. "You go get good littlel plan youselfs! We go say you is Fro and Fro is Sams! Then they go changering the wrong hobbits!"

"But they'd know," Frodo protested. "We don't even look alike."

"But they not knowering we names," Pippin insisted. "Not no orcses, we just go be same and same at theys!"

"He's got a point Mr Frodo," Sam said earnestly. "It's at least worth a try."

"But Sam," Frodo protested. "I don't want anything to happen to you. I dragged you into this mess in the first place and what would your poor Gaffer do if you never came home?"

"There's no guarantee any of us will get home," Sam pointed out. "Not if we don't find some way to figure out why destroying the Ring didn't change anything – and you are our best chance of doing that."

"We do he Sam's plan," Pippin stated firmly. Then before Frodo could raise any more objections, swiftly changed the subject. "We gots we poppy so we get go take he now and we's not knowering when they come and it be sooner!"

Carefully Pippin extracted two of the little bottles from his pocket. He had not failed to notice that the gaoler orc had not actually used the mithril coin to buy the precious medicine, but only offered a few base coppers. He regretted now not asking for more. But the orc had been very pleased with the three extra coins he had fetched from the drain and his eyes had lit up at the prospect of more, so his plan was starting to work.

"You got take littlel and littlel," Pippin explained. "Not get too much or you go more sleeping and not too much waking. Just till hurting is stoppering and then not take till get it hurting more times."

"Should we take it now?" Sam asked. "Or…"

At that moment all three jumped with furtive surprise as the rusty key turned in the lock. The orc gaoler shuffled in with two new orc guards behind him.

"Which of youse is Gamgee?" The gaoler demanded.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As the fell beast landed before the entrance of Barad-dûr, Legolas slid lightly to the ground. Before him the mighty gates began to grind open and a hobbit walked towards them, his stature seeming smaller than usual as he was surrounded by four mighty Uruk-hai.

As they drew nearer Legolas almost blinked in surprise, for it was not as he expected Samwise Gamgee, but Frodo Baggins that came towards him. Seamlessly he concealed his surprise but at the same time wondered if this was what Sauron intended or had the periannath devised some deception of their own?

Before the prisoner and his escort had reached Legolas, the elf put his fingers to his mouth and gave a long, low resounding whistle and the sound of it echoed for miles in all directions.

The Nazgûl turned with a snarl and pointed a gauntlet-clad finger at the elf. "Take him!" He hissed. "He has given some traitorous signal!"

Two of the escort party broke away and seized Legolas, one on each arm. The Elf did not fight or squirm but looked up at the Nazgûl. "How can I be a traitor? I do not bow to your authority or your Master's!" But even as he spoke, there arose in the far distance a mighty clamour as of a thousand voices raised at once.

"You have ended the truce with your signal!" The Nazgûl whipped the head of his mount around by the reins and spurred it to rise once more. "Now I shall not return the halfling. You have betrayed the pact." Without waiting for Legolas's response, he flew off towards the Black Gate and the sound of renewed battle.

Legolas allowed himself one small smile as he stood passively in the grip of the Uruk-hai. Aragorn's Army had heard his signal and, as agreed, had raised their voices as one to lure the Nazgûl away from Barad-dûr. Also, in the distance, a cloud of dust was moving closer and gradually coalescing into the shape of a mighty stallion.

"Take that bow and quiver from him," the Uruk on his right demanded. "He shouldn't be armed."

But Legolas had no need of it. With the precise timing that only an elf could produce, as the Uruk to his left loosened his grip to take the bow, he rammed his elbow back into guard's gut and with his other arm pulled the orc's sword from its scabbard. The orc to his right was far too slow and paid for this with his head. Before the two Uruks guarding Frodo could even reach him, the first orc lay dead across his decapitated fellow, his own sword buried deep in his belly.

Legolas could see that behind the two Uruk-hai lumbering towards him, more were pouring out of the Tower's gates, so he came forward to meet Frodo's erstwhile guards and ducking under the first's sword, took him to the ground and rolled himself underneath the creature.

His calculations were perfect. As soon as the Uruk was on the top, Legolas saw Shadowfax's mighty hooves bearing down on his adversary. The fourth Uruk wisely decided on flight and, without discussion or greeting, Legolas leapt upon Shadowfax and pulled Frodo up before him.

Before the pursuing guards could put arrow to bow, they were gone, heading swiftly along the road to Mount Doom.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry shook himself from his reverie; opened his eyes and jumped to his feet, wincing slightly at various aches as he did so.

"Captain! Mr Majdi, there's someone coming!" Merry saw the Uruk reach for his crossbow and begin to load a bolt. "No! No, it's not an enemy, but I need to go and meet them. Will you come?"

"Well who is it?" Smagnu lowered the weapon and returned the bolt to his belt. "And how do'yer know anyway?"

"It's Frodo," Merry gasped. "The hobbit that was here before, remember?"

Merry had reluctantly made the decision to follow the release of the prisoner; abandoning Sam and Pippin in the dungeon. His heart had cried out as he left the other two, but in practical terms it had been more important to see what was going to happen to Frodo. However, his spirits had lifted immeasurably as he saw Legolas rescue Frodo and, now that they were headed his way, knew that he needed to go and meet them.

"But I thought the Nazgûl had taken him to Barad-dûr," Smagnu objected. "You telling me he escaped all on his own?"

"He err, had some help," Merry explained. "You remember Legolas, the Elf? Well somehow he managed to rescue Frodo and they're heading this way now."

"And you want us to go and meet them?" Smagnu frowned. "Wouldn't it be easier to wait for them to get here? I mean, no point in looking for trouble."

"No, I need to meet Frodo," Merry looked around anxiously, afraid that the dreaded Nazgûl would come screaming overhead at any moment. He had heard one in the distance, but had no idea where it was now. "I wouldn't ask you to put yourself in more danger, only I don't think I can ride one of those horses on my own."

"Well," Smagnu growled resignedly, "we'd better get going. No peace for the wicked!"

"Oh Mr Smagnude," Merry managed a watery smile. "You're not wicked – anything but!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Orders!" The voice echoed in through the grating of the cell. "He wants the little one, right now!"

Pippin and Sam looked at each other in dismay. The voice sounded like it belonged to someone not to be messed with or easily fooled.

"Sam," Pippin whispered urgently. "If theys go be take we... me Pippin, you gets we littlel escrape plan and does it on you – go find you Fro."

"No," Sam was flustered. "I can't leave you here on your own."

"Take we mithcoins," Pippin gave Sam the two from his pocket. "There go be five more on we ledge in drains. You take and take – now!"

Sam reluctantly took the coins and stashed them in his pocket just as the dungeon door creaked open.

"This one!" The fearsome sounding orc grabbed Pippin by the scruff and lifted him off the ground. He held the hobbit out at arm's length, shaking him to see him wriggle. But Pippin knew better, he had been handled this way too many times before and knew fighting made things worse and so remained as still as possible. "Yer may as well pat it goodbye," the orc gave a cruel snigger. "Don't expect you'll get it back this time."

"There's no need to take him!" Sam leapt to his feet. "He don't know anything and he can't even hear or talk."

"Oh don't you worry about that," the orc sneered. "The Lord Sauron don't need no talking. He'll just use His own methods and this little rat'll squeal this time for sure!" He shoved Sam squarely in the face with his free hand and the hobbit landed hard on the cell flagstones.

Before Sam could get his breath or climb to his feet again, the cell door was slammed and locked and he was left alone. He pulled himself along the ground and flung his aching body against the door, weeping with frustration.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Although Pippin was terrified, he resolved not to show it. Memories flooded through him of the last time he was taken before the Dark Lord, that he actually recalled – the time he had been conscious. Even so, those memories were vague and black; mostly what he remembered was being sick and wetting himself.

As they began to climb the stairs, the orc, large though he was, began to find carrying Pippin by the scruff tiring and threw him over his shoulder instead. This gave the hobbit a chance to reach into his pocket and find the bottle of poppy juice. Quickly and quietly uncorking it, he took a large swig. The orc did not seem to notice, so he took another. Then he carefully reached his mind out to Éowyn and Faramir.

_'eow? faramir?'_

_'We're here Pippin.'_

_'you got go now – sorrying at frodosam get hurtings, but we pippin not stay in no heads now.'_

_'But it is well for us dearest to stay longer.'_

_'not do eow – thank and thank at you and tell all bodies bye at we but got go out we heads now.'_

And before they had time to protest further, Pippin slammed the link shut. He could not allow them to be in a mindlink with him when Sauron probed his thoughts, especially as they were linked to Frodo and Sam through him.

Pippin just had time to re-stopper his bottle and stow it in his pocket before a door was thrust inward and he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor once again. Without so much as a goodbye, the orc left the room and slammed the door behind him. Pippin sat up to take in his surroundings.

As he did, he felt himself falling once more – no not falling, unless it was possible to fall upwards. Rather he was flying – up and up he went until all he could see was a black luminescence.

Finally he came to rest, more or less, as he slid from one side of the floor to the other and could not seem to find a flat surface to cling to at all. Once more he opened his eyes to see where he was.

The room was shiny, that was Pippin's first impression. In fact, so bright was it that he had to shield his eyes from the glare. As he grew accustomed to the light, he could make out that the room was made of a dark glass-like material all over and was perfectly round, he could not even make out where the door was – perhaps there wasn't one. It was like being in a large goldfish bowl, only with no opening or transparency.

Suddenly Pippin felt his mind freeze as if it had been turned to a block of ice. He screamed with fear and pain.

**'DO NOT MAKE SOUND!'**

"Wh-where is w-we g-go be?"

**'WHERE I AM IS NO CONCERN OF YOURS. YOU SHOULD RECOGNISE WHERE****_ YOU_**** ARE, YOU HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE!'**

"N-not been," Pippin stammered. "N-not knows nothings of g-go heres."

**"SILENCE! YOU DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS I ALLOW IT. YOU ARE INSIDE MY PALANTÍR. YOU ARE THE HALFLING THAT DARED TO ENTER HERE BEFORE. NOW I WILL USE YOUR FOLLY TO FIND THAT WHICH I NEED."**

Pippin tried to speak again, but his voice froze in his throat. Inexorably the black coldness crept over and through him, caressing his mind in a vile parody of the sweet touch of Merry or Legolas. He watched helplessly as the events of the last few days were played back for both him and Sauron to see.

There he was, riding on Shadowfax, the Ring, or what he believed was the Ring, around his neck. Then he was being taken by Smagnu into Mordor. The rescue of Merry and remembering how traumatised his poor cousin was; encouraging Merry to speak again. Then Frodo and Sam arriving and the fight with Gollum. Eroo! The Ring! It was all being laid out clearly in front of the Dark Lord.

All at once Pippin felt a tinge of warmth creep stealthily across his body. He recognised it at once! Poppy! The poppy juice was beginning to take effect.

Painfully, with his last ounce of will, Pippin reached into his pocket and managed to uncork the bottle and take one more desperate mouthful. Slowly, the opiate seeped into his consciousness, lulling the images and soothing his frantic attempts to conceal that which he knew he should.

Pippin felt Sauron's fury lashing through him like a bitter North Easterly wind, as gradually he became more and more drugged. His knees turned to butter beneath him and he slumped to the glass floor, smiling happily as his mind reached that place where even the Dark Lord could not follow!

-TBC-


	59. Inter Rusticos

**Inter Rusticos**  
**Chapter 150/59**

**by Llinos**  
**beta Marigold**

Sam roused himself painfully from the floor. He stood up to walk to the cot, but before he was half-way he clutched at his middle and fell over, writhing in agony once more. It was as though his whole body had suddenly been dropped into a deep chasm of pain and dimly he remembered Pippin telling Frodo and him that they would need to take the medicine he had given them once the dreadful, mind-numbing hurt started again.

With agonising slowness Sam fumbled in his pocket and found the little bottle. He almost fainted from the effort of will it took to remove the cork and take a sip. At first nothing happened, so he took another drink, waited, and then another.

Gradually a warmth stole through his muscles and sinews and he felt the hurt abate slightly but, overcome now with the effort and battered by the sudden onset of pain, he collapsed to the floor and let the dark encompass him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Legolas?" Frodo finally managed to find his voice. "Bilbo used to tell me stories when I was young about knights on white chargers rescuing distressed maidens and I often wondered how they felt about that. Now I think I know!"

"You are hardly a distressed maiden, Master Baggins!" Legolas laughed. "However, I must admit you were a surprise. I was expecting them to release Sam!"

"They did intend to," Frodo explained. "But we just told them I was Sam, but I'm very worried about him – and Pippin. Is there anything we can do? Go back for them perhaps?"

"We'll do what we can as soon as we can," Legolas said in a kind tone. "But I think it more important to locate the Ring first."

"I've really no idea where It is," Frodo told him. "It was not an act for Sauron, I really don't know."

"No," Legolas agreed. "But I do. It is with Merry."

"Merry? But how... arrrrggghhh!" Frodo was cut short by a crippling pain that suddenly swept over his whole being. He almost lost his balance on Shadowfax, but Legolas steadied him.

"Frodo?" Legolas held him firmly. "Éowyn and Faramir, they have left you?"

"Y-yes..." Frodo managed to gasp. "B-but I-I h-have some m-medicine, th-that Pip got. It's in..."

Before he could finish Frodo slumped back into Legolas's arms, completely unconscious. The elf half suspected what Pippin had procured to deal with the pain – the little hobbit had a one track mind on the subject. Carefully Legolas felt in Frodo's pocket and discovered the small bottle. He removed the cork and sniffed. "Hmm, I thought as much, Pippin is certainly resourceful when it comes to this narcotic. Still, under the circumstances, I have little choice."

He called Shadowfax to a halt and, cradling Frodo in his arms, tilted the hobbit's head back far enough so that he could pour a measure of the poppy juice down his throat.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam sat up and rubbed the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. Immediately he had a rush of déjà vu, as he remembered the misery and despair he felt waking up outside the undergate of the orc stronghold when he had left his master for dead, only to discover that Frodo was in fact alive and taken prisoner.

"And now it's the same for poor Pippin," Sam sniffed as a few errant tears trickled down his cheek. "What to do? What to do? I know I'll get it wrong."

Sam turned over the possibilities. "Well first off, you need to pull yourself together Samwise Gamgee! No good lying here and weeping over what is and that's a fact!" He smeared his sleeve across his eyes and nose once more and then opened his clenched fist and examined the two little coins that lay there. Then he realised he was holding something in his other hand and remembered the bottle of medicine; fortunately he had managed to put the stopper back before he lost consciousness.

"I'm not sure how you work," Sam said to the bottle. "But I reckon I'd best keep you for later – just in case." He could still feel the echo of the agonising pain, but it was distant now and less insistent of his attention.

As the pain abated, Sam sat down on the edge of the cot to have a really good think. The first thing he needed to do was to try to escape from this dungeon. At least Pippin had given him the wherewithal to do that.

"Well, o' course, Samwise m'laddo," he scolded himself. "Unless you get out of here there's nothing you can do to help anyone!"

But what to do next? Frodo would be safe enough he hoped. He should have been returned to Gandalf by now. But how could he hope to rescue Pippin? He didn't even know where they had taken him. He'd probably end up just getting killed and not helping anyone. "Especially as you obviously weren't no use to Sauron, Sam!" he told himself. "Why would they keep you alive?"

Besides, the most important thing, the thing they had been sent to do by Gandalf, was to destroy the Ring! Although that would be tricky right now as he did not even know where It was. Perhaps Pippin **_did_** know! In which case he should try to rescue him, although the chances of that succeeding were so slim they were ridiculous.

"Although you did manage to rescue Mr Frodo," Sam reminded himself, "and against all the odds too! But what are the chances of that happening again? Besides, I had the Ring then and that must've helped."

Suddenly an unbidden thought popped into Sam's head. Mr Bilbo had once told him, 'the worst decision you can make m' boy, is not to make one at all!'

"Right!" Sam stood up from the cot. "First I'll try to get out of here and then I'll see what happens."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"There they are!" As Merry shouted, Smagnu jerked on the reins to pull his horse up. The great Wizard's horse was thundering towards them with two passengers on board. In the distance Smagnu could also see signs of pursuit and he wondered how long it would be before the Nazgûl too were called in to join the chase. That was not a battle Smagnu, or he suspected, Majdi, would chose to fight.

As Shadowfax drew level with the oncoming party, Merry scrambled down from his perch before Majdi and rushed to greet the elf.

"Legolas! We have to go and rescue Pippin and Sam!" Merry gasped breathlessly. "I think I know a way."

"No Merry," Legolas gracefully slid off Shadowfax, still cradling the unconscious Frodo in his arms. "You know what we have to do!"

"B-but we can't do that!" Merry looked anxiously around to see if the others were listening and lowered his voice. "Not yet, we can't bring down the Tower while Pippin and Sam are still in there!"

Legolas lowered Frodo to the ground and drew Merry down to sit beside him. Aware that the Uruk Captain and the little orc Bloggin as well as the strange man were watching with curious, anxious faces, he spoke softly but firmly.

"Merry, look at me," Legolas caught Merry's chin and turned his face to gaze into his eyes. "You know what must be done! You have to give the Ring back to Frodo and he must take It to the Cracks of Doom and destroy It – now!"

Frodo began to stir in Legolas's arms. He opened his eyes and looked up blearily at the elf and hobbit bending over him. "Wh-what happened?"

"Frodo will never make it!" Merry hissed obstinately. "He's in no state to go anywhere, let alone back up that road."

"He can if you help him," Legolas insisted. "We're running out of time, Merry, it has to be done now!"

"But Legolas!" Merry persisted, "Pippin..."

"You'd better hurry up your yakking," Smagnu had dismounted and moved towards the group, with Bloggin trailing behind him. "'Cause we're gonna have some company right soon and they're out for blood and probably flesh and bones too."

Legolas was on his feet in a flash, his bow was nocked even before he stood upright and three arrows flew in quick succession. Two of their pursuers, a large Uruk and a smaller orc, lay dead and a third pulled up with an arrow in his leg.

Smagnu had heard of the prowess of Elvenkind before, although not seen one in action. "Seems like I picked the right side," he growled softly. "D'yer reckon we can take 'em all out?"

"I can keep the orcs at bay," Legolas surveyed the remaining posse. "There cannot be more than fifteen. But if the Nazgûl return, I'm not so sure."

"Keep down," Merry put a hand on Frodo's back. Although the orcs were now lingering just out of range of the deadly Elven bow, a few token arrows were being let loose. "Are you all right Frodo?"

"Yes, although I'm a bit woozy," Frodo admitted. "Merry, Legolas says you have the Ring. You have to give It to me."

"I'm not sure I can do that," Merry took his hand from Frodo and backed away. "I think I still need It."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam ran over the plan several times in his head. He had to try to tempt the gaoler with the two coins he had, and the promise of more, to take him to the tunnel Pippin had told him about. Then, after giving the coins to the gaoler he would keep going and the tunnel would eventually lead outside, at which point he could escape. It sounded straightforward enough.

"Err Mr Gaoler Sir?" Sam stood on the bucket and tapped politely on the grille with the tin cup. "I've... err... got some more coins if you want them."

"Eh?" The gaoler stirred and came over to the door. "Whaddayer want?"

"I've got a few more of those coins," Sam repeated. "If you want them."

"You trying to bribe me?" The gaoler snarled. "'Cause there's ways o' dealing wiv dem as tries that on."

"No, no!" Sam had not been expecting this reaction. "It's just, I know you likes those little coins and I've got some more if you want – that's all."

"Well, give 'em 'ere then!" The gaoler held his paw up to the grille. "If'n you ain't bribing me, I'll just 'ave 'em."

This was not working out at all the way it was supposed to. Sam needed the gaoler to open the door and then perhaps he could tempt him with the promise of more coins. He made as if to put them in the gaoler's hand, but then let them slip through his fingers.

"Opps! Silly me," Sam jumped down from the upturned bucket. "I dropped them, they must be here somewhere." He found them quickly but pretended to scrabble around on the flagstones. "Now where've they gone?"

"Come on!" The gaoler grumbled. "I ain't got all day!"

"If I had a bit more light," Sam suggested. "I might find them quicker. You got a lantern Sir?"

The gaoler almost went back to his chair, he still had a lot of snoring to do and these imps could be pretty troublesome for all they looked so innocent. But then he considered the coins. He already had three, plus the couple he'd had from Smag before so, not counting the coin he'd had to use as a bribe, that made four. A few more and he'd build up a nice little nest egg, maybe enough to set up on his own somewhere with a few handy lads to fetch and carry for him. He brought the torch and unlocked the door.

"You found 'em yet?" He nudged Sam with his foot. "You find 'em for me and I'll give you a nice biscuit."

"Err not yet Sir," Sam pretended to search diligently, the coins palmed carefully in his left hand. "They must be here somewhere."

"P'raps they rolled a bit," The gaoler sat down on the edge of the cot. "Try over there." He held the torch up to light a dim corner of the cell.

"I'm trying my best, Sir," Sam lied. "My eyes aren't so good in the dark. I suppose in your line of work you get used to it."

"Ho yus!" The gaoler chortled at this. "I can spot the blackest spider in a coal cellar – no trouble!"

"Well, I don't know about that Sir," Sam continued his fake search, pleased that he'd got the gaoler talking. "I've fetched coal often enough myself, but in truth, I'm really a gardener."

"A gardeninger eh?" Grubbus had not come across this particular occupation before. "Whass dat then?"

"Oh you know," Sam sat back on his haunches. "I grow things, flowers, vegetables, cut the grass, that sort of thing."

"Vegetables?" Grubbus echoed. "I thought they just growed theirselves!"

"Well they do," Sam agreed. "But you have to mind them, feed and water them and look after them and make sure they don't get et by worms or choked with weeds."

"Ha!" The gaoler snorted. "Like I has to feed and water my prisoners and make sure they don't get et by worms nor choked by nuffink!"

"Seems you and me have a bit in common then," Sam flinched slightly at the concept, but ploughed on anyway. "We're both caretakers of a sort."

"So where do yer find these vegetables growing?" Grubbus had only ever seen vegetables in sacks or on plates. "In forests or summat?"

"No," Sam was startled by the orc's ignorance. "You have to plant them! You dig the ground over and compost it, then put the seeds or roots in for what you want to grow. Then you need to earth up your 'taters, pinch back your tomatoes, stake up your beans and peas. There's quite a lot to it."

"Then what?" Grubbus was quite interested now. "Do you have to say spells over dem? Sounds like whiteskins' hocus-pocus ter me!"

"You can if'n you wants," Sam chuckled at this, "but it's not necessary."

"So you mean anyone can do it?" The gaoler sounded quite incredulous. "You don't need no special powers or magick or nuffink?"

"Well it's not magick as such," Sam explained. "You just have to be patient and wait for them to grow."

"Ah well," Grubbus muttered. "I'd be good at that – waiting that is. Do a lot of that in this job."

"Perhaps you should try gardening then," Sam suggested, although not too seriously. "You might be a natural."

"Is there any money in it?" Grubbus's existence was based mainly on eating, snoring and hard cash. "This gardenering work?"

"Of course," Sam said. "You get money for selling the vegetables that are more than you need. Then you can make money looking after other folks' gardens. I make a good enough living at it and so does my Gaffer."

"'Ere, did yer find dem coins yet?" The mention of money reminded Grubbus why he was there.

"Oh err, yes." Sam decided he had stalled long enough and he did not want to incur the orc's wrath after so much hard work. "Here they are." He scrabbled on the ground and, pretending to find them, pressed the two coins into the orc's mitt. "Enough there for a nice little garden I'd say."

"Yer knows, yer've given me an idea," Grubbus stashed the coins away in his leather purse. "I've been thinking about quitting this place. They do say the war ain't going too well. I could be out of 'ere tonight. Mebbe if'n youse could find me some more of these 'ere coins, I could take yer along wiv me an' yer could show me all about this 'ere gardenering.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You have to give It to me Merry!" Frodo held out a quivering hand. "You understand this is my task – my burden. I thought I had already done it, but at least now I know that I can."

"But Frodo," Merry backed another step away from his cousin. "If you do it now, what of Pippin and Sam? They will be buried in Barad-dûr!"

"I know," Frodo said gently. "We all will. Merry, I never meant for you and Pippin and Legolas and these others to be caught up in this, but when the Ring is destroyed the whole of Mordor will likely fall. I don't expect to survive nor anyone else who is in the path of Mount Doom. But it's what we have to do. Don't you understand?"

"Oh... but..." Merry had not considered this. "Surely we can..."

"Merry," Frodo stepped nearer and put an arm on the other's shoulder. "You just can't mend this. I know you always think there is a solution, but this time there isn't. We have to finish the Quest for the sake of Middle-earth, nothing else matters."

"It doesn't mean we can't try," Merry did not give up that easily. "Perhaps there is a way – for all of us."

"Give me the Ring," Frodo said patiently. "Then you may go and try whatever you can to save the others. I will wait as long as possible – but I **_will_** destroy It."

"But what if that ghostly wind returns?" Merry looked around and up at the sky. "Or the Nazgûl come back? They found you before, but they didn't take me."

"Merry is correct," Legolas suddenly added his voice to the argument. "But I think I know why that may have been and it will not hold true a second time."

"Why then?" Merry turned to the elf. "What do you mean?"

"I think it was because they only sensed those who had touched the Ring," Legolas explained. "At that time, Merry, you had not – but now that you have, there is as much chance they will take you as Frodo."

"But that would make it impossible!" Frodo groaned. "You say, anyone who has touched the Ring will be discovered? Then no one can take It to the Cracks of Doom?"

"There is one," Legolas smiled, in spite of the dire situation. "The one who carried It up before but had no idea what It was – nor does he now."

"You mean Bloggin?" Merry gasped. "You want me to give the Ring to Bloggin?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam's escape was going exceeding well, although not remotely according to his plan. The gaoler had kitted the hobbit out in orc armour, very similar to that which he and Frodo had discarded before their assault on Mount Doom, but it at least meant Sam could now walk through Barad-dûr without attracting too much attention.

Much as it went against the grain to tell such outrageous lies, Sam had been trying to convince Grubbus that Pippin was in fact the greatest, most knowledgeable and cleverest gardener in the whole of Middle-earth. But the orc just insisted that he had no idea where Pippin was and, since he had been taken to the Great Lord Sauron, he, for one, wasn't about to go looking for him! And neither was Sam, the orc insisted! Although this was his escape, Sam was not exactly being given much choice about how and where it would be executed.

Since the hobbit was the only current prisoner, Grubbus had locked up the whole dungeon, hung the keys on the hook outside, and taken Sam to the drain to retrieve the remaining coins. Again Sam had argued that Pippin employed special magick, which only he possessed, in order to find them, but the suspicious gaoler had actually felt around inside the tunnel himself and managed to discover the stash of five coins that Pippin had left earlier.

Now, reasonably satisfied with his incredible wealth, and not about to let his ticket to future riches out of his sight, Grubbus had quickly packed a few essentials and marched Sam through a maze of corridors and up and down winding stairs until, at last, they were outside.

Not, of course, outside the Tower walls, but in a large courtyard, one side of which was formed by the Tower itself and the rest by a high perimeter wall, "over 60 foot if it's an inch", thought Sam gloomily. There was also a large pair of gates set in the far wall, although it seemed unlikely they would be opening for the likes of Grubbus.

"What we needs is an 'orse!" Grubbus poked Sam in the back to get his attention. "Look lively now an keep up wiv me!"

"Yessir!" Sam snapped like any well trained soldier.

"An' don't call me 'Sir'," Grubbus growled. "'Sir' is for Occiffers an' I is just a Corporal!"

"Beg pardon, Corp'," Sam remembered too late Grubbus's earlier instructions. "Won't forget again Corp'!"

"An' don't talk so posh!" Grubbus complained. "You'll be showin' me up!"

"Right, Corp," Sam had been accused of some things in his time, but never before of being too 'posh'! "I'll err... umm... keep me mouth shut shall I?"

"Yeah right," Grubbus began striding off towards a low building set against the outside wall, with Sam trotting at his heels. "Best if'n you don't say nuffink at all!"

"Right Corp, I'll..." Sam gasped in awe-struck horror. "What is that?"

"Oh we ain't gonna get dat one," Grubbus waved his hand disparagingly at the great cage that had come into view as they rounded the corner of the stable. "Even the Nazgûl don't ride dat one. In any case, winged beasts won't be for the likes of us! We'll have ter get some ol' nag."

"But it's so big!" Sam and Frodo had seen the mounts of the Nazgûl before but this beast was twice the size of any they had encountered.

"Yeah," Grubbus paused before the cage and the foul creature smote its wings against the inch thick bars in fury and snarled; its great jagged mouth dripping venom and bile. "The Great Lord Sauron made 'em special like. But this 'ere one is the bull. Dey uses it to get the females in if'n dey takes orf ever."

"Really?" Sam was aware of a seed of a plan slowly germinating. "So if this one gets out all the others would follow it?"

"Yeah, but dey don't never just let it out, 'cept on a thick chain," Grubbus snorted an ironic laugh. "An' there ain't no volunteers for that job – well none as I know that lived to tell how it's done!"

-TBC-

**Author's Notes:**

Many thanks to all the loyal readers who are (from the hit count) still out there and a splendid thanks to those who also stopped by to say hi and leave a comment.

**Voronwen **– Welcome to Recap, and thank you for your kind words. There are quite a few of my stories on fanfiction dot net, just click on Llinos. (Of course nothing quite as long as this baby!)

**GW** – always a pleasure! Oh and since you asked – no, reviews can never, never be too long! Especially yours.

**Guest** – (getting a bit confusing as there are so many people called Guest) I've never read Mary Stewart's Merlin trilogy, do you think I should? Probably just as well I've not, as Pippin's palantír exploits have only just... Whoops better stop, that could be a spoiler!

**ebbingnight** – Thank you for the nudge back in (whew!) 2010 – seems it finally worked! Glad to see you waited!

**Joban** – Seems I caught up just in time. Thank you for a great review!

**Poppy Muddyfoot** – Did you read it or are you still at work? Lol!

**Fantasy Fan** – you and GW always get right to the nub of it all! I love both your in-depth reviews. Very often I see the chapters in a whole different light. Douglas Adams flying instructions also work for writers inasmuch as that is often how I write. Some of the best poetry I've ever written was by not looking too hard at it. Same goes for Recap – can you tell? :-)!

As to the schedule for posting, my work here is done, but I am still at the mercy of my hard-working beta. Marigold works full-time (for Heathrow Express) so I have to wait for her to check all the little details. But I'm hoping to post at least once a week if not more.

**Pip4** – seriously! Would I string you along?

**Merrythehobbit** - hello and thank you for hitting the review button. It's lovely to know you are enjoying it. People may have put the hit counter up – but who knows what they think?

**Everyone** – I've just noticed (it's been a while) that I can now click on your reviews (if you managed to coax fanfiction dot net into letting you read the wobbly letters and login) and answer you directly. I'll try to do that when I can as that will allow me to be more specific (or not depending on where my head is).

Meanwhile – hope you liked this chapter – I loved Sam in it! More soon.

Llinos


	60. Fright and Flight

**Fright and Flight  
Chapter 151/60**

**by Llinos  
beta Marigold**

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Frodo looked at Legolas in astonishment. "Are you seriously suggesting that Merry hand the Ring to an orc?"

"Bloggin has no idea what It is," Legolas explained again. "And I don't think the Ring called to him either. Perhaps Sauron made sure It would not call to an orc, or the temptation of those who served Him would have been too pressing. Also Bloggin is not stupid, but he is naive – ignorant of the concept of great power. But, whatever the reasoning, I think he is the best chance."

"If he does carry It," Frodo looked over at the little creature appraisingly. "He must give It to me to cast into the fire. Do you think he can do that?"

"I think he can," Legolas nodded. "Or, if you are taken, he must cast It in himself. I will explain it to him in simple terms."

"Very well," Merry saw that Frodo was resigned to the idea and he was anxious to try to find the others. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "I will give It to Bloggin to carry."

"Well done Merry," Legolas clasped the hobbit's shoulder in relief. The tension between the three had been almost palpable. Now it was decided, speed was essential. "Let us hurry!"

"Bloggin!" The little orc trotted nervously over to Merry. "We need you to do something."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Éowyn held Faramir's hands tightly, closed her eyes and tried again. At length she shook her head. "I'm sorry Mithrandir, but we cannot find him."

"Perhaps it is our lack of skill," Faramir ventured. "But it feels quite different."

"In what way?" Gandalf asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

"At first Pippin shut us out," Faramir explained.

"But then it was as if he were gone," Éowyn finished. "Not shielding us, but just not there."

Faramir did not need to look at Éowyn to see the tears – he felt them, almost as if they were running down his own cheek. He put his hand to his face and found that it was indeed wet. Gently, knowing now that he would not be rebuffed, he took the maid in his arms and tenderly absorbed and shared her grief. He too had felt the loss of Pippin deeply and now that pain was doubled, and yet it was also dissipated within the harmony of a shared sorrow.

Gandalf looked down at them with sadness which he knew he must keep in his heart for now. At least these two, having lost his precious mite, little Peregrin, the youngest hobbit who had grown a thousand-fold on this Quest, just as the wizard knew he would, at least they, in their grief, had at last found each other.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Even Merry was surprised at how fast his mind was working now. As Bloggin came towards him, he raced through myriad possibilities, frantically arguing with himself.

_'If I keep the Ring it will help me to find Pippin and Sam. _

_'But how? Sauron will probably find you first. _

_'But at least that will take me to Pippin. _

_'Yes, but what good will that do? You will all be at His mercy then. _

_'But at least I will have done something. _

_'Then do it without the Ring. _

_'But with the Ring I stand a better chance of finding them. _

_'With the Ring you will certainly find them quicker, but what will you do then? Wield It? You think you can defeat Sauron? _

_'No, of course I can't!_

_'Then give It to Bloggin and let Frodo and him take It to the Cracks of Doom and destroy It. _

_'But won't that kill us all? _

_'Yes – probably! But you have no choice. You can't keep It – No one can. Now stop being ridiculous. _

_'Frodo kept It. _

_'But only to destroy It. He never meant to use It! You have to give It back!'_

Merry took a deep, deep breath. He knew that the Ring was trying to persuade him to use It. He could feel the oppressive weight of It in his hand and a frantic longing to put It on. Would this little orc really be so oblivious to It?

"Will this work Legolas?" Merry whispered to the elf as Bloggin stood waiting for instructions.

"I don't see what else we can try," Legolas said. Then kneeling before the orc he spoke very carefully and slowly. "Bloggin, you remember me? From the camp but mostly in your head?"

Bloggin nodded slowly. This much he understood. This was the kind voice, the elf, that had helped him to speak to Sniggin.

"Well, I've got a job for you," Legolas continued. "It should not be difficult, but it is very important and you have to do it right. Are you willing?"

"I can tries," Bloggin ventured. "Can't do no more'n that."

"Merry here, New Little Pip that is," Legolas remembered Merry's name was something of an enigma to the orcs. "He is going to give you that piece of jewellery you found."

"What, the one that belonged to Mr Little Pip's Ma?" Bloggin did tend to be quite gullible at times. "I fought he wanted it."

"No," Legolas said firmly. "He does not. In fact, because someone has put a bad curse on it, Frodo needs to throw it into the fiery river."

"What? Like he did wiv the other one?" Bloggin remembered the faffing around with the bit of jewellery before. "I dursen't knows so much about that. Last time fings got right tricky when he did that!"

"It will be fine this time," Frodo told him. "All I need you to do is to carry It for me. Don't think about it too much, you just do as we ask and everything will be all right."

"Why can't yer carry it fer yerself?" Bloggin frowned. "It's only a bit o' jullorry after all!"

"I'm worried that silly wind will blow me away again," Frodo gave an exaggerated sigh. "You know, because of the um... curse. I don't think it will touch you though. It didn't last time."

"What about Mr New Little Pip?" Bloggin asked. "He didn't get blownded away."

"Err, well," Merry stumbled. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could feel the Ring suggesting that this was right. "I err... have to go and see what's happened to our other friends, so I'll be rather busy."

"If'n it's all right wiv the Cap'n," Bloggin said unexpectedly. "It's not too much of a climb, so I'll takes it fer yer." He held out his hand to Merry.

"No!" Frodo snapped a little too abruptly. "Merry, put It on a cord or chain. He must carry It around his neck." Then he added apologetically to Bloggin, "we don't want you to lose It."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

From his high vantage point, Pippin looked out across a strange and yet familiar land. Far away to the east he could see the shrouded tops of the Misty Mountains and below him in the south west nestled the settlement of Bree, although it was much changed; whiter and cleaner than he remembered.

Below the town he could make out the rushing Brandywine River, but he could not see Brandy Hall or in fact any recognisable part of Buckland at all. He gazed west and there were the Blue Mountains and below the imposing range he could glimpse the Tower Hills.

"But no sign of the Shire," thought Pippin, "at least not any smials or pubs that I can see. Perhaps this is what will be, perhaps they never found the Ring and all was destroyed after I died."

He felt tears spring to his eyes and tried to blink them away. His eyes closed for a moment as he attempted to remember. But when he opened them again it was to a different scene.

He was standing on a wooden floor which suddenly tilted up and sent him tumbling head over heels until the floor became a wall and a door was beneath his hands and knees. He tried to crawl to safety, but there was none to be had. All around him was the reverberation of tortured, cracking timbers and men crying out for mercy, but their voices were drowned by the sound of crashing waves and the angry roar of the sea.

Then he was in the water, jagged pieces of ice floated around about him and it was cold beyond pain. Gradually the pain subsided as he sank deeper and deeper, finally coming to rest on the ocean's bed.

"So this is death?" Pippin had not expected to be in such a strange place. "Perhaps I drowned, but I don't remember falling into any water."

"This is not your death child," The voice was strangely reminiscent to Pippin. "This is my end you now see."

"Who are you?" Pippin whispered fearfully. "And where are we?"

"I am Arvedui, of Arthedain, Last King of the North-kingdom." The familiar voice suddenly made sense to Pippin. "And we are in the depths of the Icebay of Forochel." It sounded like Strider!

"But why am I seeing your death, Your Majesty, err Sir?" Pippin had never addressed a deceased King before. "I am dead too I suppose."

"I cannot say," Arvedui sounded sad. "But something must have drawn you here."

"It... it was Sauron," Pippin remembered now his capture and imprisonment. The Dark Lord's mocking inquisition and the poppy juice. "He wanted something from me – but I did not have it."

"Then hope that you are dead," Arvedui's voice seemed to fade. "Fairer is that fate than to be at the Lord Sauron's will."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry clung tightly to Shadowfax's mane. He knew the stallion did not require him to hold on, in fact it probably hindered the Lord of the Mearas, but Merry was feeling distinctly anxious and his grip was more by instinct than design. The hobbit felt giddy and sick and clinging to the magnificent steed at least stopped his hands from trembling so much.

Smagnu and Majdi were riding either side of him and he could hear the heaving snorts of their horses as the beasts tried to keep pace with Shadowfax.

Merry had known it would not be easy to part with the Ring, in fact it had taken every effort of will in his small body. Even now, with It safely on the way to Mount Doom, he still felt his heart racing and a desperate need, such as he sensed in Pippin when he wanted that poppy poison – only much more so.

But in the end friendship had won and Merry, knowing that he would not be able to rescue Pippin and Sam with the Ring, had passed It on.

"How long do you think it will take?" Merry called out to the other two at the top of his voice, which was still whipped away by the speed of their chase.

"To get to the drain?" Smagnu shouted back. "About two hours at this speed. But how can you be sure Little Pip will be there?"

"I can't," Merry shouted. "I've been calling to him, but he doesn't answer."

"Don't suppose he could hear you from here," Majdi snorted. "I can barely hear you myself."

"No," Smagnu corrected the man. "New Little Pip talks to Little Pip in their heads. It's some sort of magick!"

"Oh!" Majdi did not know quite what to make of this, "I see," he lied.

"So how are you planning to get him?" Smagnu persisted.

"I don't know," Merry said honestly. "Perhaps I'll have to go in through the drain myself and look for him."

"Will you make yourself go invisible again?" Smagnu had been quite impressed with that piece of magick.

"No," Merry gritted his teeth at the reminder. "That particular avenue of enchantment is closed to me now. I'll just have to be very sneaky."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sauron was accustomed to waiting. More than three thousand years had passed since His Ring had been abruptly hewn from His hand. Nonetheless, the great ages of Men that had passed had not cultivated patience within the Dark Lord.

Also, He had been deceived. He had long known that a halfling carried His Ring, but He had believed that the creature carried It for Isildur's heir or for Olórin and, at length one of these would wield It against Him.

But now their intention was revealed! They sought to destroy It – the fools! Since there was only one place where the Ring of Power could be unmade, He had only to set a watch on Orodruin and ensnare whichever halfling attempted to cast It into the Fiery River.

When first He had captured the three halflings it became clear to Sauron that the pathetic fools had lost the One Ring. Probing their minds had revealed that they had no notion what had become of It. But He knew they were bent on Its recovery, just as much as He was.

He perceived that the small one had last carried the Ring and that it was the one He had seen before in the seeing stone. Sauron knew it would be susceptible to the palantír so He had imprisoned it inside the stone to read it more closely. But although it had addled its mind with drugs, it did not know where the Ring lay. He would leave it there to rot, a fitting punishment for the meddlesome brat.

It did not matter as it had been simple to engineer an escape for the one they had called the Ringbearer – the Baggins. He had read their uncomplicated minds often enough and, just as He had set the creature Gollum free so that he would eventually lead Him to the Ring, so would these benighted creatures eventually recall Its whereabouts.

Soon the Nazgûl would descend upon the Mountain of Fire and this time He would take the Ring from whosoever bore It so that It could not be cast away. Then the bearer would be brought before Him, not to die, but to dwell forever in His shadow in fear, terror and pain as He, the Great Lord Sauron, would reclaim the One Ring; at last to hold dominion over the whole of Middle-earth.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Mr Fro-Fro?" Bloggin held out his hand again to help Frodo up a rocky incline. "Why is this jullorry all shiny now? I dun't think it's the one what I had, 'cause mine was everso black and dirty."

"Well," Frodo gasped as he scrambled up after the more agile orc. "Perhaps Merry cleaned It up a little."

"Merry?" Bloggin frowned. "Oh, Mr New Little Pip! I s'ppose he must've."

"Why do you call him that?" Frodo had wondered several times about the funny name the orcs used for his cousin. "It's very odd."

"I dunno," Bloggin shrugged. "It's what the Cap'n alus calls him, so I does too."

"Wait a moment," Frodo was out of breath and starting to hurt again. The air was now thick with sulphur and the hobbit was understandably tense. Although they were on the road, there were still tricky parts where rocks had fallen and needed to be scrambled over. "I need a short rest." Half sitting on a rock, he uncorked the bottle of poppy juice and took a small sip. Below them they could still see Legolas standing guard against the now retreating orcs. Frodo wondered if it would be easier this time. At least he did not have Gollum to deal with.

"Poor Sméagol," he sighed quietly. "I hope you found the peace you were looking for. I hope I can, eventually find that peace too."

"What?" Bloggin had sharper hearing than Frodo realised. "Did you lose a piece of something?"

"No," Frodo climbed to his feet once more. "Let's go. We're nearly there and once this is finished perhaps you'll understand the importance of what I have to do."

"Don't matter," Bloggin shrugged. "If'n the Cap'n tells me to do summat I reckon it's worth doin' an all!"

"You really trust your Captain," Frodo looked at the orc with new interest. "That's something I've not seen in your... erm species before. I mean orcs generally don't seem to trust each other much."

"Nah," Bloggin confusingly nodded his head. "Most off they don't give a toss about little 'uns like me an Snig, that's me bruvver. We's just maggots, not fit ter lick the backsides of most of 'em, but the Cap'n, he's different! He treats us like we matter. There ain't nuffink me an' Snig wouldn't do for the Cap'n!"

"Yes, trust is important," Frodo said. They were actually in sight of the opening in the mountain now and their pace quickened. "I suppose that's how I feel about Gandalf."

"That's your Great Wizard Lord, ain't he?" Bloggin had spent enough time with Gandalf, both incarnate and in his head, to know the Maia quite well. "I can sees why'n you'd trust him like I does the Cap'n. I trusts him an all, 'cause he looked out for me pretty good, even if'n he do shout sometimes."

All of a sudden the sky above them became darker still and then came a flare of blue lightening which lit the sullen clouds. As they looked up in fear there came a shrill cry, a rending screech which Frodo knew and dreaded.

"Aiee! Run! Quickly! We have to get to the entrance before they reach us!"

Bloggin had heard that sound before too. The terrifying wail of the Nazgûl had made the little orc pee himself. Together, hobbit and orc began to scramble over rocks and run where they could, the fear and panic lending energy where none was before.

Bloggin risked a quick glance up at the sky and wished he had not. "We's not going to make it Mr Fro-Fro, sir," he panted. "They's almost on us!"

"We have to make it!" Frodo growled through gritted teeth. He could see that the orc was right, the distance was still too great, but there was no alternative. "Now run!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam was only half listening to the conversation coming from the stable.

"I needs an 'orse!" Grubbus was shouting. "I got good coin 'ere, now wass it to yer? Just take the fugging cash, give us an 'orse an' shut yer gob!"

"I ain't givin' yer no 'orse," came the exasperated reply. "'Cause I ain't got no 'orse ter give yer! Don't matter if'n yer got the bleedin' Iron Crown of Morgorth – I ain't got none!"

Sam could see that the cage opened from the top and there was a winch and pulley device operated by a large hand crank. "Well Samwise," he muttered to himself. "I reckon the opening is going to be the easiest part. The tricky bit comes in not getting eaten!

"A bit of rope's what's needed," Sam smiled grimly as he delved inside the cumbersome orc armour. "Good thing I kept this when Stinker ran off." He unwound the elven rope that Merry had used to tie Gollum with and looked at it appraisingly. It seemed longer than before and was radiating a soft grey glow. "Well," he said to the rope, "you seem to think I'm doing the right thing at least."

Tentatively Sam tried the crank and, using two hands, managed to move it a half turn. The winch obviously had not been used in some time and was stiff and creaky. He looked desperately around and spotted a bucket filled with black oozing grease with a long handled broom stuck in the top.

Grabbing this rather mucky looking lubrication, Sam slapped the black grease liberally onto the cogs of the winch mechanism. The massive beast seemed aware of what was happening and began beating its wings furiously and screeching in anticipation. Fortunately the orcs were still busy arguing about the availability of horses and no one came to investigate.

Sam spat into each of his palms, rubbed them together and started again. Throwing all his weight behind the crank, the winch slowly began to move and the opening in the top of the cage slid slowly back.

Sam held his breath as the creature emerged from the top of the cage, its massive prehensile claws gripped around the iron bars as it perched ominously above the courtyard. The gigantic wings beat furiously, as if the creature had been captive for too long and it needed to stretch before it could take flight. Sam was almost overwhelmed by the wind caused by the flapping, to say nothing of the stench that emanated from the newly liberated beast.

"Now comes the tricky part!" Sam had made a noose with the elven rope and he gripped the strong cord tightly in both hands as he ran to the centre of the courtyard shouting and waving the rope in the air to attract the creature's attention.

It swooped swiftly down, so fast that the hobbit misjudged the speed and was knocked to the ground. But the orc armour did a good job and the talons failed to penetrate the thick mail although he lost his helm in the mêlée. Sam took his chance and, rolling up onto his knees, flung the noose upwards and caught the creature's leg.

It was an excellent shot, passing straight over the talons and anchoring tightly around the scaly leg, just below the beast's knee. Sam knew he had to get up the rope as quickly as possible, before the monster could attack him again and, pulling on resources he scarcely knew he had, hand over hand, managed to climb up and cling to the foot and then scramble up until he was standing on top of the claws and holding on to the leg itself.

The fell beast obviously did not possess an intellect to match its size and, wheeling around for another attack, seemed puzzled to find its prey missing.

Grubbus however, although not great in brain power, had a better vantage point. As he stalked back into the courtyard, horseless and angry, he was greeted by the sight of the loose fell beast, and his erstwhile prisoner-come-mentor, about to take off for freedom. "Oi! You!" Grubbus shouted in frustration. "Come back – we 'ad a deal!"

Sam felt a sudden pang of remorse, being a kindly soul and hating to disappoint the gaoler, who after all, had done him no harm and was helping him to escape. As the beast spotted the newcomer and readied to pounce, Sam let down the elven rope and shouted. "Grab on Corp', come on you can make it!"

Grubbus had no time to weigh the decision. The beast flew at him, shrieking with anger and, probably, hunger. The orc's instincts told him fight was out of the question, flight back into the stables was outside the distance, so he took the only remaining alternative and grabbed the rope.

The beast turned furiously, twisting in mid-descent to try to locate the missing morsel, but it too had mysteriously vanished. Grubbus on the other hand, was having his own problems. The elven rope bit into his hands and seemed to burn like fire, but the alternative was far worse, so he held on.

Sam, seeing that Grubbus was not able, or possibly willing, to climb, locked his legs around the beast's thick scaled leg and began, with a strength fuelled by his frantically pumping heart, to haul the rope up with the orc dangling precariously on the end.

By the time Grubbus was finally pulled all the way up and clinging desperately to the other leg, the creature was airborne and wheeling around the Tower in a graceful sweep that belied its hideous form. The stable master had run out to see what all the ruckus was and stood shaking his fist at them.

"It's his own fault, Corp'," Sam gasped, totally out of breath after the last few minutes' exertions. "If he'd just let you have a horse, there would have been no need for this!"

Grubbus was speechless.

-TBC-

**Notes:**

**GW** – Loved your review! It's that little captcha thingy that's catching you out. (BTW it stands for "Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart" So it obviously doesn't think you're human – I know better!) You pick up on Merry's distress so well. It's actually one of my failings! Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't fix something – I have _**beeg trubble**_ with that one! Your penultimate comment made me laugh! We all know about everyone wanting to be in charge!

**Poppy (aka "Guest**" lol!) – Sorry I didn't recognise you, I should have known better! You're right I do string you along, fancy me claiming I don't! However it's not quite the anniversary. You may not have been around, but, back in Sept 2002, fanfic dot net suddenly decided to delete all NC-17 stories – no appeals – nothing! Unfortunately Recap was rated as NC-17, a rating it never really deserved, but which I used just in case anything untoward crept in, so it was deleted - I even lost all my original reviews. So I had to repost under a different rating, that's why it's in two parts. The actual start date was sometime in January 2002, so now it's over 10 years (hides head in shame).

**Voronwen** – Thanks for nice review. You may have something with Grubbus... watch this space. I'm afraid Pippin is far from out of the woods! (Well the others aren't exactly home and towelling themselves down). But Pippin is in big trouble and you are quite right to be anxious!

**Joban** – Thanks for commenting. I'm happy for any kind of response – makes me think I'm not just talking to myself! And your wait is over! (Not too long was it?)

See you next time,

Llinos


	61. Omnia Vincit Amor

**Omnia Vincit Amor  
Chapter 152/61**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

The brightness of the sun was blinding as it reflected off the gleaming white spires, but even so Pippin welcomed its warmth after the bitter chill that had almost consumed him. Far below he could see the Great River ribbonning its way to the distant sea, its smooth glass flecked with billowing sails, or were they reflected clouds? Although the view was needle-sharp, it was indistinct as though someone were flicking the pages of a picture book.

"Please slow down," Pippin heard himself murmur. "I want to see."

"You should not look, boy!" The voice was not unkind but carried great command. "There is danger within."

"But it looks so peaceful," Pippin sighed, "and I am tired and lonely."

"I feel your weariness," the voice said. "But I, Eärnil son of Siriondil, have made the decree. Do not look, for it will be the ruin of Gondor and all who dwell in this fair land."

"What harm can looking do?" Pippin asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer. "I'm so alone – so lonely."

"Lonely!" The voice changed abruptly to another, and at the same time the fleeting images coalesced into a steady view, but the scene was no longer pleasant. The sky was darkened and overcast, lit only by fires which burned both inside and out of the White City. "You do not know the meaning of loneliness!" The voice was brusque and angry. "I have lost everyone – wife, sons, the respect of my people. No one is as alone as I!"

Pippin blinked in surprise and then screamed in anguish. The fire that was consuming the City had reached him and the flames began to engulf him with unremitting agony. He writhed and turned, trying to escape the overwhelming inferno, but there was no release. No longer could he see the White Tower or the plains and river below. The only thing visible was a pair of withered, blackened hands.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry did not have a plan, just an impelling conviction that he had to find Pippin and, hopefully Sam as well. The drain did seem the most likely place to get back into Barad-dûr, but the problem was that Smagnu and Majdi would not be able to go with him and, right now, he really felt as though he needed their strength and support – especially their strength!.

They had taken the main road towards Barad-dûr, for although it was not a particularly safe route, it was easier for the horses. Skirting around the orc patrol that was in pursuit of Frodo had been tricky, but the dull-witted creatures had been more intent upon trying to break through Legolas's defence. They were now within sight of the main entrance to the looming Tower and Shadowfax, as if reading Merry's mind, abruptly pulled up.

"I think we should get off the road now," Merry scrambled down from the great white horse and stood between Smagnu and Majdi's winded steeds. "I would not ask you two to come any further with me. You won't be able to get into the drain in any case."

"Just a minute, Merry," Majdi dismounted. "How are you going to do this? Do you even know where your friends are?"

"I think I can remember the way," Merry frowned. "Once I'm inside that is."

"I don't see how," Smagnu grunted. "You couldn't even see last time you were there."

"What do you mean?" Majdi thought there were no more surprises these odd little creatures could spring on him. "What are you two talking about?"

"When New Little Pip was a prisoner in the Tower last time," Smagnu explained, "he was blind – couldn't see a thing!" He turned to Merry, "and half the time you couldn't remember nothing, neither. So I don't see as how you can remember the way to anywhere!"

"Is this true?" Majdi caught Merry by the arms and searched his face. "You don't have a clue about what you're going to do – do you?"

"Not really," Merry admitted. "But I have to try."

"All right," Majdi released Merry from his grip and looked up at Smagnu. "I imagine the Uruk and I can at least think up a better plan than your vague recollection of a drain. I still have some friends in the Dark Tower and I daresay the Captain does too."

"Ha!" Smagnu snorted a laugh. "Dunno about that! But I got plenty of enemies."

"Well," Majdi spoke thoughtfully, "sometimes enemies can be more useful than friends in a pinch!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas was conserving his arrows now. He had collected a few that the orcs had half-heartedly aimed at him, but they were of poor quality and he doubted they would be of much use. He had picked off five orcs, four had deserted, which left only six still waiting for the chance to either rush him or get in a lucky shot with a bow.

The orcs did not concern him too much; he was more worried about the Nazgûl returning and constantly scanned the sky for any sign of the fearsome Ringwraiths.

"No! No!" Legolas mouthed in horror. He had thought that if just one or perhaps two had pursued Frodo that he might be able to shoot the fell beasts on which they rode from the sky, but now he could count the seven surviving Nazgûl, all heading like ominous and deadly dragons at great speed towards Orodruin.

Knowing that he could never hope to shoot all of the remaining seven, Legolas, nevertheless, took aim. If he could at least bring down the leaders it might divert the attention of the others from their prey.

The first screeching cry, together with the flash of lightening, almost made Legolas falter, but then he thought of Frodo and the little orc. They would nearly be at the entrance by now, defenceless and vulnerable, but also nearing the end of the Quest. He fired and the shot went wide.

The orcs could see now that Legolas had found a new target and began stealthily to advance upon the elf.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Gandalf had watched with increasing anxiety as the Nazgûl had turned and fled towards Mount Doom. The battle on the Dagorlad Plain had turned to no more than a few minor skirmishes and Aragorn's forces now held the field.

"This does not bode well!" Aragorn stood at Gandalf's side as the Wizard searched the empty skies for any sign of hope. "Our diversion would seem to be failing. Can you read the situation? How fare Legolas and the hobbits?"

"Not well," Gandalf said grimly. "I risked a look into Legolas's mind and sensed great fear. I saw through his eyes that Frodo and the orc, Bloggin, are climbing up Mount Doom, but the Nazgûl are bearing down upon them."

"Will they get there in time?" Aragorn asked quietly, his voice dropping to a sombre note.

"I cannot tell," Gandalf shook his head. "It does not seem likely. I had hoped that Gwaihir and his kin would have come by now – I have sent word. But, if they do not, then I fear all is lost for they are our only hope."

"Is there nothing else?" Aragorn asked, although he knew the answer.

"Nothing," Gandalf said; "Unless Legolas or one of the hobbits suddenly learns how to fly."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam had never developed a taste for heights and flying was decidedly not to his liking. However, the alternative would be to let go and that seemed, at the moment, an even worse prospect.

The gigantic male fell beast had risen shrieking into the air with Grubbus and Sam clinging determinedly to a leg each. Having gained its freedom, the first time the creature had ever flown completely unfettered; it seemed uncertain what to do next.

Sam knew what he wanted it to do, but he had no idea how to explain to the dragon what he needed. Grubbus had said that they used this one to lure the others, the females, back if they got loose, although whether that would still work if they were being ridden remained to be seen. However, what he wanted to know now was, how exactly they went about it.

"Tell me Corp'," he shouted across to the orc. "How do they get this one to call the others in?"

"Why'd you want ter do that?" Grubbus gasped. He was not overly fond of flying either. "'s bad enuff 'anging on ter it as it is!"

"Well, perhaps," Sam frantically searched his brain for a plausible reason. "If it gets the females, maybe it will just land and then be more interested in them than us!"

"So as we can get away wivout getting et?" Grubbus concluded. "All right, I fink dat dey just kick it in the balls!"

"What!" Sam, being a well-brought up hobbit had always been taught that this was never seemly behaviour. "Won't that hurt?"

"Probably," Grubbus shouted back. "If'n yer does it wiv yer bare feet it'll hurt yer plenty!"

"No, I meant... Never mind! Perhaps you could do it?" Sam suggested. "You probably have more experience than I do."

"Nah!" Grubbus wrapped his arms more tightly around the scaly leg. "I'd have ter let go an' I ain't doing that!"

"Well where are they then?" Sam asked nervously, scanning the appropriate area. "They don't seem obvious."

"You'd have ter get on the tail of it!" Grubbus yelled. "Thass why I ain't doin' it!"

"Right!" Sam gritted his teeth. He suspected he was going to come to grief, but the chance of being able to distract the fell beasts, and possibly their riders too, was incentive enough – Mr Frodo had enough to worry about without those fiends after him.

Using his knees to keep a firm grip on the beast, Sam began to coil his elven rope into a noose once more. The creature was spiralling upwards and both the hobbit and orc were finding it harder to breathe.

"Now then, Sam Gamgee," he muttered to himself. "If you don't disturb it too much, you got more than one shot, so take it steady."

Sam need not have worried; he wasn't conker champion of the Shire six years running for nothing. The rope looped over the thrashing tail and he pulled the knot tight. Biting his lip for concentration, he swung out on the rope and the momentum took him in a wide arc to land squarely astride the creature's tail.

Sam was quite surprised to have landed where he meant to at his first attempt. He looked down at the rope in his hands and saw that it was still glowing. "I reckon this elven rope is a lot smarter than some hobbits I know," he mused. "First pulling the Corp' up so easy and then this! Now all I've got to do is find the right spot to kick."

Using the best knots he knew, Sam tied the elven rope around his middle. The creature had now levelled its flight; so carefully the hobbit edged his way to the base of the tail, before easing himself underneath until he was hanging by his arms in a very precarious, and potentially exceedingly unpleasant, position.

"I just hope he ain't been fed lately," Sam shuddered at the thought. "Or that me kicking it doesn't make it go! Ah well, nothing ventured!"

Sam could see his target clearly now, so, swinging backwards for extra impetus, he let fly with both feet.

The effect was immediate and electrifying. It started as a low rumble, just like the snows beginning to avalanche off Caradhras, and built to a screaming crescendo, reminiscent of the Gates of Moria opening, multiplied by a thousand. The beast veered violently around, making Sam lose his grip so that he swung helplessly from his middle, saved only by the elven rope. It took him several attempts to grab hold and haul himself back up onto the tail. But now the creature was definitely flying with purpose – straight towards Mount Doom.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Open up!" Majdi Rann beat his fist on the door. "Quickly! In the name of His Excellency, The Mouth of Sauron!"

"Yessir!" The guard of the stable door peered through the hatch and inspected the owner of the voice carefully. He recognised Majdi immediately, but was at pains to identify all who demanded entry. "Who goes with you?"

"A Captain of the Uruk Guard and a halfling wanted by the Lord Sauron," Majdi often found that the truth worked quite well in such situations. "Open up!"

Of course, Majdi was taking a massive risk. As a deserter he faced terrible retribution; of which death would be the least problem. But, on the other hand, he reasoned, the pursuing party of his former colleagues had been killed or turned back and the survivors had fled away from Barad-dûr. There was a good chance that the Mouth of Sauron had not yet returned, although word might have been passed via the Nazgûl, but they would be preoccupied with the war.

The door creaked agonisingly as the guard slowly pulled it open and Majdi stepped confidently inside. Merry followed, keeping carefully behind the man with his head down and Smagnu brought up the rear.

"I s'ppose you'll want them horses fed and watered?" The guard nodded towards the mounts, whistling through his teeth in astonishment at the sight of Shadowfax.

"Yes, but you'd best not lay a hand on that white one," Majdi glanced at Merry. "Only the halfling can bid him."

Merry, taking the cue, went back to where the great horse was anxiously pawing at the ground and tiptoed up to reach his neck with both arms and whispered into his lowered ear. "Please Shadowfax, it's only for a while, and I think even you must need some food and water and a bit of a rest."

The Lord of the Mearas shook Merry's arms free as he nodded his head up and down; then quietly followed the hobbit into the orc stable and, after a long drink from the water trough, allowed himself to be given a manger full of hay, although he would not be tethered or corralled, but stood in an open loose box.

"'Ere just a minute!" The three fugitives were about to leave the stable when the guard, who had been seeing to the other horses, stepped in front of them. "Don't I know you?"

"I should hope so!" Majdi did not miss a beat. "As the Chief Guard of the Lord Sauron's Gatehouse, I would expect you to know exactly who I am!"

"Yessir, of course!" The guard outlined a rough salute. "But, beggin' yer 'onour's pardon, I meant the Captain. Ain't you Smagnu? I thought you got et by a spider!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas was caught between indecision and action. In the sky seven Nazgûl were heading towards Mount Doom and the Ring Bearer, whoever that might be at the moment, and on the ground six orcs were advancing upon him.

He could try to eliminate the remaining orcs, which would give him a clearer chance to attack the Nazgûl, but then he might fall prey to the orcs himself. Or he could take shelter from the orcs and try again to hit the fell beasts, which, even if he succeeded in hitting all seven, would not actually kill the Ringwraiths, although he might still be able to help Frodo and Bloggin. He crouched down behind some rocks for better cover and, from his cramped position, tried to aim upwards once more.

What happened next was the last thing that Legolas had expected.

A cacophonous, screeching cry echoed across the mountain and suddenly the Nazgûl seemed to falter. The fell beasts on which they rode began to buck and two of them turned away, going towards the howling clamour. The other five halted their progress and started to circle frantically, torn between their riders' urgent determination to master them and a pressing need to follow their stable mates.

Even the orcs were distracted and stood gazing in bewilderment at the erratic performance taking place over their heads, forgetting for the moment that they were supposed to be trying to eliminate the elf.

Legolas had more presence of mind. Letting go a barrage of arrows with a speed and accuracy that defied reason, six bemused orcs suddenly lay dead or wounded upon the barren ground.

Then Legolas looked up at Mount Doom. Angry sparks of lava were being thrown up from the great chimney and Legolas suspected that Frodo must be near. It could only be seconds before the Nazgûl would master their steeds once more and descend upon the little hobbit and the orc to seize them and the Ring.

He stared hard at the fell beasts, which were still circling frantically over the chasm above Orodruin, until he picked out the one on which he had ridden to Barad-dûr. Using every ounce of concentration, he threw his mind at the creature. Images began to seep back. Confused, muddled images, but always with the same overriding theme – _'Eggs! Chicks! Feed! Mate!'_

"So you want to reproduce," Legolas remembered similar images from before. "But that was always on your mind. Why is it so urgent now? What **_was_** that cry you heard?"

With a desperate last effort, Legolas threw open his mind to the creature. _'Listen to me. I will help you!'_

Nothing! Legolas realised in that moment that his approach had been all wrong. "Think pictures," he told himself.

He imagined a nest, set high upon a dark mountain top. Five bald, ugly chicks held open gaping beaks. They were naked of even scales and their cries were a hollow, high-pitched version of the call he had heard earlier. He forced the image out of his head and onto the creature circling above.

He felt it blink... pause... listen! Then it turned its mind towards the elf. He quickly formed a second image.

This one was easier. Five flying beasts with riders were circling a fiery mountain. He replayed the cry they had heard and then pictured the creatures throwing off their masters so that they plummeted into the molten river below and then sped off towards their crying chicks.

Legolas sent the image. He waited. He sent it again, adding more vibrancy and colour, making the chicks cry louder; then tagging to it a thought that was hard to picture; an idea of creation, of needing to make the chicks – of desire – lust – sex? Then he repeated the necessity of the creature ridding itself of its encumbering master, the one obstacle that stood in its way. His brain was practically throbbing with the effort, when suddenly the fell beast screeched and bucked furiously.

The Ringwraith dug his great, spur-clad heels into the creature's side, but it would not be bested. It flew hither and thither, shaking all the while until eventually it executed a loop in the sky, finally dislodging its rider.

A terrible shriek rent the air as the Nazgûl plummeted towards Orodruin. Legolas did not see what eventually happened to the Ringwraith, but something else occurred then that the elf was not expecting.

The riderless beast circled once more and then, in a smooth glide, swooped down and landed beside Legolas. It snarled and reached out a clawed foot; Legolas backed away; it followed. The Elf knew better than to run, but as he moved further away he reversed into solid rock and began sidling along, slowly, never taking his eyes from the creature.

The fell beast matched him, step for step, then suddenly it flapped its great wings. The draught knocked Legolas off his feet and, with a speed that surprised even the elf, it reached out once more and snatched him up in its gigantic claw.

As it flew away, the creature cried out to its companions. Legolas, from his enforced aerial view, saw that they too had now unburdened themselves of their riders and, as if with one mind, the five remaining fell beasts answered the call of love and flew off in pursuit of freedom; their hearts' desires and, most importantly, the male of their species!

-TBC-

**Notes:**

Slight delay this week, as I've been away and busy with other stuff.

Thanks to:

**GW** – Yes, gardening can be a dangerous occupation, as I know only too well!

**Poppy** – I doubt I can fit into your proposed schedule as there are still 17 chapters + the epilogue to go. A liquorice allsort is a sweetie (candy). A piece of liquorice coated in blue (or sometimes pink) sprinkles. BTW, GW may be interested in that bridge you are selling.

**Joban** – Actually, I frequently talk to myself, and sometimes I get into heated arguments with me. You wouldn't want to listen to that conversation!

**Pippinfan** – Ahh you've set me a lot of tricky tasks there, I'll do my best.

**Pip4** – As I always believed – orcs must have had hopes and aspirations too!

See you soon - keep reviewing, love to get that feedback!  
**Llinos**


	62. Vince Malum Bono

**Vince Malum Bono**  
Chapter 153/62

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

It is a little known fact amongst orc-kind that runaways and deserters are very rarely punished, or for that matter, even pursued. An orc is easily replaced and the paperwork, of which they have very little, involved would not be worth the trouble. Generally the orc armies work on the premise that most of their enforced recruits are very stupid and would not be able to gather the resources, supplies or brainpower to execute an effective escape from being enlisted in their Master's service.

The most effective weapon in the pursuit of unswerving loyalty amongst orcs is rumour and gossip. Whenever an orc goes absent without leave the word is immediately put out that the individual has come to a sticky and unpleasant end. In this way it is generally believed amongst the soldiery that desertion is a mug's game.

So it was with Smagnu. When he had unilaterally taken leave of Barad-dûr, the rumour grapevine had officially marked him down as having been eaten by Shelob. After all, he had claimed that he was going to Cirith Ungol in search of a spider-skin coat, so that seemed a reasonable assumption and suitably gory to deter others from the same adventure.

"Yeah, that's right," Smagnu snarled at the guard. "I got et by the spider."

"Err, so how come..." The guard always took a moment or two to work out irony. "What happened then? To the Great Spider of Cirith Ungol?"

"I dunno," Smagnu snapped back. "Went on to become Chief Guard of Barad-dûr stable entrance?"

"She's dead," Merry supplied helpfully.

"How would you know?" Smagnu looked at Merry in surprise. "You was blind anyhow."

"I know," Merry agreed. "But Pip and I killed Her. Well, she was already wounded, Sam did that, but Pip and I finished Her off."

Majdi caught the guard looking at Smagnu and Merry with renewed suspicion. "Take no notice," he said quickly. "They're always saying weird things like that! Hurry now, erm... the Master is waiting, let's go!" And without giving the opportunity for further discussion, strode from the stable and into the main courtyard of Barad-dûr, with Smagnu and Merry hard on his heels.

The guard was about to protest again, but held his tongue. The Mouth of Sauron certainly wielded great power amongst the orcs and his servants by association were not to be crossed. On the other hand, he was deeply suspicious about the whole situation. How had Smagnu, who to his knowledge was a Corporal, suddenly returned as a Captain. "And what the fug was that little runt talking about?" He muttered to himself. "He had killed the giant spider? That did not seem too likely!"

The guard wandered back into the stable and looked at the great white horse again. He reached out a tentative hand to the flank. Shadowfax stamped and let off a warning kick and the guard backed away with both hands in the air. This was all very odd the guard decided.

First there was the escape of the male beast, aided and abetted by one of those imps and, if you please, Grubbus the jailer. Then Lord Majdi Rann had turned up with the missing Corporal Smagnu, who he thought long dead, eaten by a spider _and_ one of those imps again, who reckoned he had killed Her Ladyship Shelob. To say nothing of the most amazing stallion he had ever laid eyes on. He would make a full report to his superior as soon as possible and be sure nothing else odd got by him today.

Satisfied with his decision, the guard went back to his post at the gate, where he had been enjoying an illicit flagon of grog before being interrupted with all these strange goings-on.

As he put his feet up on the table and rocked his chair backwards, there came a sharp rap on the courtyard door, as if someone had struck it with a heavy staff. The guard cursed under his breath as he almost fell off the chair. He quickly hid his flagon again and opened the door.

An old man stood there. The guard had never seen him before. He was obviously the owner of the staff. He wore long white robes, long white hair and a long white beard. Without speaking, he brushed past the guard and marched into the stable. The guard followed.

"That one!" The man pointed at Shadowfax.

"'Ere just a fugging minute! You can't..." The guard suddenly stopped speaking. What was he saying? This was all perfectly in order. "Y-yes Master," he stammered. "Whatever you want."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Frodo was not sure exactly how he and Bloggin the orc had evaded the approaching Nazgûl; he had been more concerned with running than looking back to see how close they were. But as he threw himself in through the opening in the side of the mountain, he realised with amazement that somehow they had so far escaped. Breathless, they both flung themselves down on the floor of the cave.

"D'yer think they's gone?" Bloggin panted. "Seemed like they had us there for sure!"

"I really don't know," Frodo gasped. "But we can't wait to find out. Come on, let's get to the edge."

Side by side, the hobbit and the orc crawled to the precipice that overlooked the abyss of the fiery river. Bloggin shuddered as he gazed down. "It do look awful hot!"

Frodo smiled at the little orc's ingenuous remark. "It is," he said simply. "Now give me the Ring."

"No!" Bloggin shook his head emphatically.

"It wasn't a request," Frodo said sternly. "You have to give It to me."

"Why?" Bloggin glanced down at the Ring, It was dangling from a strip of Merry's shirt, which had been hastily fashioned into a necklace. "You're going to throw It away, and It's so pretty and shiny now. I never had anything so beautiful before."

Frodo realised immediately, from the way that Bloggin was talking, that the Ring had finally decided to call to him. It had obviously recognised that, although this was just an insignificant little orc, he could also mean Its salvation. He had two choices. Either seize the Ring from Bloggin, which could result in a skirmish with an unlikely outcome, or he could try to explain to the orc why the Ring must be destroyed.

There was, of course, a third choice, which Frodo preferred not to consider - yet. He could just push Bloggin into the fiery river! After all, it was unlikely either of them would survive the downfall of Mordor.

"Bloggin," Frodo began. "Do you understand the meaning of _'good'_ and _'evil'_? Do you know what the difference is?"

"Yes," Bloggin furrowed up his wizened little face. "_'Good'_ is when you gets something you like and _'evil'_ is when you doesn't."

"It's more than that," Frodo explained. "_'Good'_ is when you care about other people – not just thinking about yourself. It is wanting what is best for those you love, without expecting something in return."

"_Love_?" Bloggin echoed. "Who are _'those you love'_? I don't know as how I ever met any of them."

"People that you care about," Frodo told him. "And people that care about you."

"What? Like me bruvver?" Bloggin's face brightened at the thought of Sniggin. "And the Cap'n."

"Yes!" Frodo felt he was getting somewhere now. "The Captain makes sure you are all right, not just because you're useful, but because he cares about you – that's _'love'_ and that is what _'good'_ is."

"But ain't it other things?" Bloggin asked. "Like good grub and nice jullory?"

"Yes," Frodo nodded. "But you get good grub and nice things when other people care about you and make sure you have them."

"Right!" Bloggin felt he was beginning to understand. "And makes sure no other bastards doesn't steals it from yer."

"Well, yes..." Frodo was not sure that was quite the right concept. "The point is, it is _'evil'_ to take what isn't yours. It is _'evil'_ to be cruel and uncaring to others. It is _'evil'_ to destroy what is beautiful and good."

"So why'd yer want to destroy this beautiful bit o' jullory?" Bloggin was confused now. "Wouldn't that be _'evil'_?"

"Sometimes," Frodo said patiently, "_'evil'_ can have a beautiful face. But this _'bit of jewellery'_ as you put it, stands for everything that the Great Lord Sauron represents. For, Bloggin, It is His Ring and He made It."

"I dursent get it?" Bloggin frowned. "Who is this Great Lord?"

"He is the Master of all the Orcs." Frodo decided to put it simply. "He enslaved them and corrupted them and drove them to war. He wishes to do the same to the whole world – to enslave all and make everyone _'evil'_, so that they don't care about each other, so that they lie and steal and murder. And Bloggin," Frodo took hold of the little orc's shoulder and looked intently into his eyes. "If He has this Ring, He can and will do it. Do you understand?"

"Weeell," Bloggin was thinking hard now. "I understands, but how do I know that's true? The jullory looks so pretty. How can anything that pretty be so evil?"

"Look into your heart," Frodo pleaded. "Ask yourself if you believe me – if you trust me."

Bloggin looked hard at where he thought his heart might be. "I trust the Cap'n, and Sniggin o'course, and the Cap'n trusts Little Pip and New Little Pip. I never seen an Uruk so trusting of anyone afore. And you are just like the Little Pips..."

"They are my kin," Frodo explained. "We three are cousins."

"So," Bloggin took a leap of faith. "I s'ppose I does believe you. And you say that if this bit o' jullory gets back to the Great Lord, there will be nuffink but _'evil'_ in the world."

"Yes," Frodo sighed with relief. "So either give It back to me or cast It into the fiery river yourself."

Bloggin took the Ring from around his neck and gazed at It. "I dursent thinks I can chuck It away meself, but I'll let you do it." He closed his eyes and held the Ring out to Frodo.

Frodo took It quickly, feeling a shudder run through him at the touch of the malevolent thing once more. His hand trembling, he held It out over the chasm.

"Stop!" A familiar voice echoed through the cave. "Frodo! Wait!"

Frodo clutched the Ring to him once more and turned to see if it was true. A lofty figure stood in the entrance. He wore long white robes, a long white beard and carried a tall staff. Behind him a magnificent white horse pawed at the rock.

"Gandalf?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The agonising heat had subsided and Pippin gazed up at the stars. There were too many to count, but that was the way it was with stars. They stretched over him like a magnificent canopy, lighting the dome above with their silver radiance.

But as he gazed upon the brilliant spectacle, Pippin felt another sensation. He was hungry, more hungry than he had ever felt before. "How long is it since I've supped?"

"Days upon days!" Came the answer.

"Shall we die of hunger?" Pippin asked the voice.

"No, we shall fight, for I, Eldacar, will not relinquish my rightful throne."

"But surely..." Pippin began to ask. But his question was drowned out by the clamour of battle. All around him he could see flames leaping to the great dome, until at last it cracked from side to side and the stars blacked out as if snuffed like a candle.

Suddenly Pippin was falling, choking, drowning. The riverbed rose up to meet him and the waters of the Anduin stretched away into endless years.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Stay close and try not to say any more strange things," Majdi Rann gave up hammering with his fist as Smagnu lifted the keys off the hook and dangled them in the man's face." With a grunt of annoyance he snatched them away, unlocked and pushed open the massive door that led into the dungeon cellar. "I thought this place was supposed to be guarded!"

"Only if there's someone to guard," Smagnu elbowed his way past the man and peered into the first empty cell. "Old Grubbus don't bother too much when there's no one in, and most prisoners don't last that long!"

"Oh, you mean..." Merry's unspoken question trailed off.

"Yeah," Smagnu finished inspecting all the cells and found them empty. "Looks like they're all gone. Sorry New Little Pip, I reckon we was too late."

"B-but they can't be dead!" Merry tried to scramble up against the first cell door to see in. "I'd know... that is I'd know if anything happened to Pippin!"

"What? Because of that magick way you got of talking to him?"

Smagnu's question jolted Merry. He'd followed him in his mind before, why was he not doing it now? Perhaps he was harbouring some vague and subconscious fear that something _had_ happened to Pippin. Surely that would not be possible without him feeling it?

"All right," Merry looked up at Smagnu and Majdi. "Please, just give me a moment – I'm going to try." He sat down on the cold cellar floor, running his hands over the flagstones as if his cousin's recent presence might provide a connection. Carefully, Merry forced his mind inwards, searching all the places where Pippin might be, whilst trying to hide his own mind from any unfriendly foes who might be waiting to pounce on an idle thought.

His mind tracked around, seeking up to the highest tower and above into the sky, then back down to the sewer where he and Pippin had escaped before. Tentatively he called out, trying not to attract the wrong attention.

_'pippin? where you go be? say things at i, talk at your mer...'_

There was nothing!

Then, for a brief second, Merry was sailing high in the sky, borne up by a winged beast. He shook his head sharply to clear it.

_'Merry?'_

_'legolas?'_

_'Yes. Are you all right?'_

_'yes – but i no got find my pip not got sam too at he!'_

_'Samwise is with me, but I don't know where Pippin is right now.'_

_'where i go look?'_

_'Where are you?'_

_'is safe go we talkering?'_

_'I think so – briefly.'_

_'i go in dung – in towrer'_

_'Oh Merry!'_

_'is not be good i knowing but need go find my pip'_

_'Merry, you need to leave!'_

_'but pip!'_

_'Merry, I fear it is too late for Pippin. You must go now!'_

_'not say that legolas – i got go find he'_

_'Do you feel him?'_

_'no'_

_'Merry, I do not feel him either! Please leave before it is too late!'_

"No! No! No!" Merry suddenly realised he had shouted out loud, breaking off the contact with Legolas, possibly because he did not want to hear what he knew was probably true.

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

**FantasyFan** – Loved all your analysis – very insightful. The Nazgûl fell from a great height and, although not necessarily into the lava (although possibly) they will be out of the picture for now, very much as they were when washed away by the flooding Bruinen. I think Sauron may well have lost patience with them! Legolas has really got those fell beasts worked up! He seems to have that effect on women.

**Poppy** – Yes it is a strange way to inspire lust, but I guess fell beasts are pretty strange anyway. But the eagles don't seem to have turned up, so, as my Dad used to say, "third class riding is better than first class walking!"

**Guest** – (and everyone else) Pippin is trapped inside the palantíri network and it would appear that no one ever bothered to delete the history. Kind of like inheriting a mobile (cell) phone with other people's phone numbers, messages and texts still on it. Very confusing.

I'm afraid I had to wander into the realms of The Silmarillion for the history of the palantíri, but don't worry if you haven't read it. There will be a little more detail along later to explain anything that isn't clear.

**Llinos**


	63. Alter Ego

**Alter Ego**  
**Chapter 154/63**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

It had never happened before! The winged steed of the Nazgûl had only ever been called to mate when she was flying free and unencumbered by a rider. The call was always strong – too strong even for such a fearsome beast to resist. But whenever she had managed to evade cage or whip and spur, she had turned back to the urgent cries of the male, only to be thwarted by chains and nets before her needs could be satisfied.

So when the male had cried out to her, as she flew with her master, instinct had made the creature abandon all training and fear and follow her nature.

And there was something else! Something was in her head, showing her encouraging pictures, urging her to follow the longing for a mate and chicks. She remembered it from before. She had carried it with her master and it had touched her mind then. It was on the ground now, looking up at her. She swooped down and took it, for she liked the pictures in her head and craved more! Legolas, by gently stroking the fell beast's claws and sending her visual clues, gradually persuaded her to release her grip so that he could climb up and onto her back.

They were flying North East, towards Ered Lithui, The Ash Mountains and, as Legolas urged his steed on, the other four females took position just behind, with two on either side, forming a skein as if they were a flock of geese. Ahead he could see the male and, as they drew closer, he could also make out someone riding on the tail of the great creature.

Clutching tightly around the beast with his legs, the Elf nocked an arrow and took aim. As his target became clearer, Legolas loosed the arrow and, at the same time, gave a gasp of astonishment. Fortunately his instincts had been slightly ahead of his intent and at the last second he had aimed the arrow upwards into the sky, missing its intended victim.

It is true that it takes a major event to shock, let alone surprise an Elf, but Legolas was truly dumfounded.

"It cannot be!" Legolas breathed in amazement. "Samwise Gamgee?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Frodo?" A grinning hobbit stepped from behind the shelter of the old man's cloak. "What are you doing?"

"Pippin!" Frodo blinked as if to clear his vision. "How did you get here? And what do you mean, 'what am I doing'?"

"My dear cousin," Pippin came towards Frodo with his arms held out to embrace him. "Obviously, I came with Gandalf. And when I asked what you were doing I merely meant why are you still trying to destroy that silly Ring? There's no need now. Gandalf has defeated Sauron by meeting him face to face. I just knew good old Gandalf could do it! So you see there's no need to get rid of It now."

"But... but..." Frodo stammered as Pippin put his arms around him. There was no doubt in his mind that this was his little cousin, the feel, the smell, the touch of him was right. "You make it all sound so easy – after all we've been through." Frodo caught Pippin by the shoulders and held him at arm's length examining his face. He looked questioningly up at the Wizard. "Surely, even if you have defeated Sauron we still need to destroy the Ring. You said that was the problem last time – that Isildur did not throw It into the fiery river. Sauron could still return!"

"No, that cannot happen again," the Wizard said. "I have cast Sauron into the abyss. He will stay there for all eternity. It is impossible for Him to return." He walked over and put a kindly hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "You have been very brave and have suffered enough with your burden. It is only right that you should keep the Ring now. I would not have you suffer further with having to destroy It – for you know that will be your end."

Frodo managed a weak smile. He wanted it to be true with all his heart and yet, it seemed too wonderful – too amazing. He forced himself to think harder, there were still more questions. "What happened, Gandalf, when you fought the Balrog? How did you survive that?"

"Do you have so little faith in me," the Maia actually chuckled. "It took longer than I might have wished, but I bested him in the end. And now I am returned, stronger and more powerful than ever. How else do you suppose I managed to defeat the great and mighty Sauron?"

"What about the others?" Frodo could still not quite piece the events together. "Where are Sam and Merry and Legolas and Gimli? What of Aragorn? Did he play no part in this?"

"Oh they're fine," Pippin answered. "Don't you understand Frodo? We won! It's all over. You can stop worrying now."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Oi! Stop that caterwauling New Little Pip!" Someone was shaking Merry's shoulder. "Yer can't just lie there howling. If Little Pip ain't down here, mebbe he's somewhere else."

"He's dead!" Merry sobbed. He suddenly realised that his grief had blocked out everything else and he had no idea how long he had been crouched on the cell floor weeping. He looked up at Smagnu. "I thought I'd know if something dreadful had happened to him. But... but I just feel nothing! He's not there!"

"Well he's not in these cells," said Majdi reasonably. "But that doesn't mean he's not somewhere else in the tower. Perhaps he's been taken for questioning."

"Then he might as well be dead!" Merry stayed slumped on the floor; all purpose drained from him. "I might as well be dead too!"

"Nevertheless," Majdi glanced at Smagnu for agreement. "As we're here, we may as well take a look."

"I ain't taking New Little Pip up there," Smagnu pointed a gnarled finger at the ceiling. "Last time I did that he nearly got killed and then tried to kill hisself! I don't know what He wants him for, but it's nothing good. Besides, if Little Pip is up there, what we going to do? Just walk in and take him?"

"I don't know," Majdi shrugged his shoulders. "But we could leave him here and you and I could just stroll up there, casually as it were. See what's what."

"Nah!" Smagnu shook his head. "I dursent leave New Little Pip here. If Grubbus comes back, I dunno what he'll make of it. I'll put him in the drain, like before. No one'll find him in there."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

In the Tower of Barad-dûr, Majdi Rann was answerable to no one except the Mouth of Sauron and his servants, Majdi's former associates, and, of course, the Lord Sauron Himself.

The man was hoping desperately that his erstwhile colleagues, who were now almost certainly his sworn enemies, with the possible exception of the dead leader, would not have returned to report to Sauron. It was actually quite a reasonable hope, since bringing news of an incompetent nature did little to endear the bearer to the powerful Master.

Merry had been put uncomplainingly into the drain. "No bawling," Smagnu had warned him. "You keep quiet in there." He had not protested or even argued – all the determination and fight seemed to have left him.

Majdi and Smagnu had already reached the topmost part of the tower, without being challenged, or even apparently noticed. The whole place seemed quieter than usual, they both surmised that many orcs had been sent to the battlefront.

The doorway to the top chamber was flanked by two guards, one an orc, the other a man. They stood rigid and to attention and both were armed with halberds. As the interlopers approached, the guards' weapons were slammed across the door, forming a diagonal cross. "Who comes within? Halt and be recognised!" The man barked.

"It is I, Majdi Rann, vassal of the Mouth of the Master." He looked carefully at the guard for any flicker of alarm. There was nothing; the news of his treachery had obviously not reached Sauron. "Will the Lord receive me? I have information to report."

"He sleeps!" The orc responded this time.

"Really?" Majdi had never heard of this before. Even if the Great Lord Sauron did sleep, it was not the sort of event you would expect his guards to relay. "I was not aware that the Mighty Lord of Barad-dûr took afternoon naps."

"Are you questioning the word of the Master?" The man snapped, "for if so, it will be reported."

"No," Majdi was shaken by this. He had only been in the presence of the Master before as a servant of the Mouth of Sauron and had not been required to speak. "It's just that I..."

"For fug's sake, Phairie!" Smagnu interrupted. "You and Plugbo here know me an' I knows you. Just let us in and we'll wait."

"Yeah I knows you Smag," Plugbo eyed him suspiciously. "Where you bin? I heard yer got et by a spider."

"I ain't been et by no spider!" Smagnu realised the rumours of his death by Shelob were quite well spread. "I been at the front and now we got orders to report here! You owes me one Plug and you know it!"

"You saying he did piss in the stew?" Phairie narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "'Cause it was you said he didn't!"

"I ain't saying nuffink!" Smagnu said pointedly, "an' I ain't going to. Just tell us if the Master has got my little imp in there."

"Oh! So thass it!" Plugbo cackled a grating laugh. "Yer after yer little pet rat! Well he was in the glass stone room, but I ain't seen him since."

"Yeah," Phairie snorted, "an' you'd best leave well alone Smagnu, that's a dangerous game you're playing there. Don't go messing with the Lord and Master's property or you'll end up worse than et by a spider – I'm tellin' yer." He spat derisively, just missing Smagnu's feet. "Stupid orcs!"

"Yeah!" Majdi spat, emulating the guard, just missing Plugbo's feet. "Stupid fugging orcs!"

"'Ere!" Plugbo stepped forward, halberd raised. "Who're yer callin' stoopid?"

"Ha! You o' course!" Phairie grinned at his partner's anger. He, like Majdi, knew orcs hated to be called stupid. "All fugging orcs are stupid!"

"Least we ain't thieving liars," Plugbo countered. "Like all the sodding men I ever met!"

"Ho yers!" Smagnu decided to add some fuel of his own. "Never found a man I could trust – and they all stink!"

"You can talk!" Phairie was still grinning. "Working with Plugbo is like being next to a dung heap all day, and he's the worst fugging liar I ever..."

"Yaaaarrgghhhh!" The smirk vanished from Phairie's face as Plugbo launched at him with his halberd. The man was unprepared, but not slow. As the orc tried to ram the weapon into his belly, he caught the shaft and twisted it upwards. Nevertheless the point went through his shoulder and as the enraged Plugbo pulled back to take another lunge, he was aware of Majdi's arm around his neck. Two seconds later the orc was not aware of anything, as his neck had been cleanly and expertly broken. At the same time Smagnu's fist found Phairie's jaw and the man, already injured, was knocked cold and fell in a heap across the dead orc's body.

Smagnu poked at them both with his boot, "You didn't have to kill him," he looked reproachfully at Majdi.

"I'm sorry," Majdi frowned, "force of habit. Friend of yours?"

"Nah!" Smagnu gave the bodies another kick. "I wanted to take his head off meself – he did piss in the stew!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam was certain he would never get used to flying, especially as he reckoned this would probably be his only chance. "As soon as this monster lands," he mumbled to himself, "it's gonna have me for dinner. Still, I feel so ill now, that might be a relief!"

"Hey Corp'!" He shouted down to Grubbus, who was still frantically hanging on to the creature's leg. "How d'you stop this thing?"

"How would I know?" Grubbus yelled back. "Yer ain't s'pposed to let 'im go – this'un ain't fer riding. They just keeps it on a long chain an' pulls it back in when it's done its job!"

"We'll have to try and think of something," Sam shouted. "Preferably something that doesn't involve us getting eaten!"

"Oh yeah!" Grubbus rolled his eyes. "So instead of just hanging here, I'll start thinking will I? Only... Oi! Some bugger's shooting at us!"

Sam managed to turn around on his perch. "Legolas! It's all right Corp'," he called to Grubbus. "It's Legolas! He's an elf I know," he added by way of explanation.

"Yeah right!" Grubbus muttered to himself. "Why didn't I see that bleedin' well coming?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas was well aware that he knew nothing of the mating habits of fell beasts. Unfortunately, the creature he was riding did not seem to have much idea either, just a general impression that she needed to follow the male and that eventually this would result in chicks.

He had been content to play along with the creature's instincts for the time being. Somehow, between Samwise and him, they had managed to divert the Nazgûl's steeds and given Frodo his best chance, so there seemed little else he could achieve, except perhaps persuading the errant dragons not to eat Sam or him. That was until he had heard Merry's plaintive cry.

He had told Merry that Sam was with him, which was not strictly true. He knew where Sam was and it was not a particularly happy position, but he did not want to add to the hobbit's worries. So now he needed to resolve that and get back to help Merry as soon as was possible.

Leaning forward with both hands on the creature's head, Legolas made an experimental suggestion. He drew an odd mental picture.

There is a male beast. It has something on its back. The thing on its back moves and lives. It is a chick. It is your chick!

The female sent the picture back. It was a question. This is what Legolas saw:

The male beast. Sam riding upon its back? A scale-covered chick in a nest?

Legolas sent the picture back again, but instead of the scale-covered chick, he placed Sam in the nest.

The creature was confused. There was a memory. She had seen something like this small animal before. She had picked it up and taken it to her roost. She had tried to eat it. She sent this picture back to the elf. Legolas was momentarily taken aback with the image. He saw:

A cave with bars across the entrance. A frantic hobbit trying to get out. It was Merry.

This would not do at all!

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Pippin? Gandalf?" Frodo looked from one to the other. "Forgive me, but this really makes no sense." He pushed Pippin away from him and moved back towards the lip of the chasm. "It seems to me that I may as well destroy the Ring, whatever you say. After all, if Sauron is defeated what difference will it make either way? Better to be safe than sorry!"

"Stop!" The voice of Gandalf rang out through the cave, once more staying Frodo's hand. "Did you not understand what I said? If you destroy the Ring – it will also mean your own destruction. It lives through you now. Come Frodo Baggins, I will lead you to your rightful place – to your true destiny."

"My destiny?" Frodo had never thought of himself as being the sort to have a destiny, that status was reserved for the likes of Aragorn or the grander elves such as Gil-galad or the Lady Galadriel. Hobbits did not usually aspire to destinies! "I think my path just ends here."

"No!" Gandalf's voice was insistent. "You must come with me. You are destined to rule and I will lead you to your throne upon the high tower of Minas Tirith. You will shape the future of Middle-earth. Do not be afraid, Frodo Baggins," the voice became gentle. "I will guide you."

Suddenly Frodo thought that he could see his future. A different future to any that he had imagined before. He would take the Ring and, with Aragorn and Gandalf on either side, he would sit upon the throne of Minas Tirith like the Numenorean Kings of old. He would be wise and just and would bring a new peace to all the peoples of Middle-earth. Bilbo would come too; and together they would dispense a new order, a fair and lasting dynasty of hobbits, who would understand that there was nothing complicated in living an honest, equitable existence with justice and peace for all. Why not? It all made perfect sense.

"Very well," Frodo walked towards his loyal mentor with a new resolve. His heart was lifted as he looked up at the trusted figure of Gandalf, beckoning him to a new beginning. "I will take my place if that is what is needed of me."

"Mr Fro-Fro?" A little voice at Frodo's side jolted him from his vision. "Afore yer goes, p'raps yer should ask the Great Lord Wizzard what my name is!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Aragorn was pacing. Although usually possessed of infinite patience, even he had his limits. "I will wait no longer," he rounded on those present. "If Sauron will not fight, I will pursue Him to His stronghold and force Him to confront me!"

"But my Lord Aragorn," Éowyn protested. "Even you cannot force open the Black Gate. How will you enter such a fortress?"

"From what little we could tell," Faramir slipped his hand into Éowyn's as he came to stand beside her, "the hobbits live yet and with that knowledge there still lies hope."

"I swore to protect Frodo and Sam," Aragorn replied, his eyes fixed upon the distant battlefield, which was now almost deserted by Sauron's forces. "Likewise Merry and Pippin. I will not leave them to fight this battle alone. If necessary I will scale the very walls of Mordor and fight my way through to Barad-dûr or die in the attempt!"

"Aye!" Gimli stepped forward, his axe held firmly in his right hand. "And I will be at your side!"

"But how will you…" Faramir's words were cut short by a heavy, but kindly, hand upon his shoulder. He turned abruptly to see Gandalf standing behind him.

"Peace," the Wizard said quietly. "The Lord Aragorn's words may seem empty and futile, but they are not so. Not while we have faith and true hearts still believe that right will prevail. Look yonder!" All eyes turned northwest, to where the Wizard was pointing.

"The eagles!" Gimli cried. "The eagles are coming!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Frodo Baggins, do not be foolish!" The commanding tone was hard to ignore. "You know that you cannot destroy the precious Ring. All you are hearing and seeing now is what your heart tells you that you want to see. Why would you take notice of some misbegotten, benighted runt of a goblin?"

"Why won't you tell me his name?" Frodo asked. "He knows who you are – your name – or at least who you claim to be, so you should know his!"

"Perhaps I am not your Wizard, but some conjuring of your own making." The white robed figure insisted. "But whatever I may be, you will listen and you will not destroy the Ring!"

"Come on Frodo," Pippin – he had forgotten about Pippin – took his arm and in that sweet cajoling voice that he used when he wanted to wheedle a story or the last cake or a final jug of ale from his dear cousin, whispered, "relax Frodo, you trust dear old Gandalf don't you. Just do as he says, you know you want to."

"Stop it!" Frodo roughly pushed Pippin away. "How are you suddenly talking properly?" As he shoved what appeared to be his cousin, his eye caught the figure of Gandalf who, for a moment, seemed transparent; his form wavering between reality and a dream.

In that second too, Sauron knew He was revealed. But it was too late for the creature! He had him now. The Dark Lord could not easily take the form of a being as fair as Mithrandir and it had used most of the energy he could siphon from the fallen Nazgûl that he had abandoned the moment they were unseated from their steeds as well as the ghosts and spirits imprisoned in rank and evil crevices of Mount Doom. Now they were almost spent, but it did not matter. He had drawn the halfling away from his intent, enough for Him physically to prevent it with the energy He had left.

He rose now to His full overpowering form; a terrifying and ghastly spectre, twenty feet high, with jagged horns and spiked teeth and a single glowing red eye. The effort to maintain the gracious image of Mithrandir had been draining, but as He fell back to the malevolence of His own manifestation, His might and force grew with every second. Powerful, rock-like arms reached out and a vice of a hand gripped Frodo around the throat and lifted him off his feet.

The Ring was still in his clenched fist and, with an unreal clarity, as if moving in slow motion, Frodo saw that he was too far now from the edge of the abyss to be certain of accuracy should he attempt to throw the Ring to Its destruction.

Frantically, as he felt himself lifted, Frodo reached out to Bloggin. Frodo had no idea who or what Pippin was, but he was certain it was not the dear cousin he knew from his childhood and it seemed the little orc was the only real and trustworthy creature available. "Take It! Run!" Frodo gasped. And, although he felt the life being squeezed from him, with his last ounce of strength, he threw the Ring to the little creature.

Bloggin caught the Ring deftly in one hand. For a second he stared at It and then up at the monster that had taken the place of the wizard and now held Mr Fro Fro and also seemed to be very interested in the bit o' ju-lorry that he had been told was very evil and needed destroying. Not sure what else to do, Bloggin popped the Ring in his mouth and swallowed.

-TBC-

**Notes:**

Thank you** GW, Pippinfan** and **Pip4** for your comments. The reviews seem to be getting thin on the ground now, so all contributions gratefully received!

I like **GW**'s new HR strategy! As to messing with the minds of orcs – that was a kind of Jedi moment there, but I suppose Gandalf (or whoever) is equal to the Force!

**Llinos**


	64. Let's Just Pretend

**Let's Just Pretend**  
**Chapter 155/64**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

Legolas had sometimes contemplated what it would be like to shut down his mind completely. Would it be restorative or would it just leave a blank, unaccounted for space? At the moment it seemed like a pleasant, if inappropriate, option. Even when the soothing image of a swaying beech tree had encroached upon the fringes of his frantic thoughts, a monstrous beast with slavering jowls and evil gaze had sat atop it, flapping its scaled wings and screeching at him.

The elf shook his head to clear it; then steeled himself as he pulled his thoughts into focus once more. He pressed his hands firmly against the fell beast's head; composed an image and sent it:

Merry and Sam were in the cave that Legolas had seen in the illustration sent to him. Instead of cowering and trying to escape, Merry was stroking her nose and nuzzling the creature with his face pressed against hers. Sam had his arm about her neck and was feeding her with titbits of raw meat. She, in turn, was purring satisfaction and spreading her quivering wings protectively. From beneath the wings several scaly chicks could be seen. Sam began to feed them too.

Legolas could not mistake the jolt in the creature's mind and body. For a moment she slowed, then, as if the image had given her new hope of fulfilment, she leapt forward, outpacing the skein of her sisters and was soon flying level with the male.

The great beast nose-dived beneath her, turning a complete loop in the sky and almost losing Sam and Grubbus in the process. Both hobbit and orc hung on grimly as the male circumnavigated the female and began pushing and guiding her down towards the peaks of the Ered Lithui.

But she had seen Sam now and slowly the female began to realise what this new master, who was so full of alluring promises, wanted her to do. She swooped up and over the male and deftly picked the hobbit from off his back with her claws.

"Heyyyyy!" Sam cried out as he was snatched. The elven rope, still around his waist, came free from the male beast and swept like a kite tail after the hobbit. Grubbus was watching Sam's adventure with a calculating eye and, as the rope swung past him, decided that his chances of survival were probably weighted more in favour of staying with the imp than striking out on his own. Although he knew the elven rope would burn, he grabbed it with both hands and tried to scrabble up.

Legolas meanwhile had climbed down to where Sam was held in the fell beast's claws. Gently the Elf stroked the fierce grip open until Sam could clutch onto the leg and free himself from the deadly talons.

"How fare you Master Samwise?" Legolas smiled at the hobbit. "I hope I was of assistance."

"Well I do thank 'ee kindly," Sam puffed. "I'm not all that used to riding, let alone riding things that fly." He grinned back at Legolas. "But if it's not too much trouble, could you see your way to giving my friend a hand up?"

Legolas glanced down at the struggling Grubbus. "That orc you mean?" Elves did not use irony lightly, but the occasion seemed to demand it. "You want me to pull an orc up here?"

"If it's not too much trouble, Mr Legolas, Sir."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

From his earliest years, Merry had always been the practical sort. The conflict between his over indulgent Grandfather Rory and the exasperation this caused his Father had made him take an expedient view of life. Also, because Grandfather Rory would have given him the chimney off the roof if he had asked for it, Merry was always very careful about what he wished for. Casual remarks, such as _'some ice cream would be nice'_, would result in several hobbits being sent up to the mountains to fetch ice and then Cook and all her assistants spending hours churning cream and sugar just so that the Master's precious grandson could have ice cream for his tea. Or idly remarking, by way of conversation, _'I wonder what Uncle Bilbo's up to?'_ would mean a lad from the stables would be instantly dispatched to Bag End to find out.

Merry found it hard to understand why his Grandfather could not see that this behaviour, not only failed to endear himself to Merry, who was perfectly fond of Rory anyway, but also did nothing to endear Merry to the servants of Brandy Hall.

This was perhaps one of the reasons that Merry did not indulge in the concept of making wishes or _'pretend'_. In case an idle fancy might be overheard by his Grandfather and made reality, Merry liked to keep his imagination firmly under control – until Pippin finally intervened.

"Merry – I dot a dood idea!" Pippin had a fairly extensive vocabulary at the age of three, although he found consonants a little tricky. When a particular letter seemed to elude him, he would just happily substitute his favourite, which happened to be 'd'.

"What's that Pipsqueak?" Merry rolled over in the grass. He was technically watching Pippin, however, once the toddler found Merry he seldom strayed far from his big cousin's side.

"I dan be a littlel mousie," Pippin held up pinched together fingers to demonstrate how small. "Und you dan be a olipant!" He spread his chubby arms wide to indicate how large Merry would have to be in order to represent an oliphant.

"You can't be a mouse Pip," Merry explained patiently. "You're not that small and you don't have a tail or whiskers or anything that would make you be a mouse."

"No, Merry," Pippin tried again. "It a dame!"

"Eh?"

"A dame!" Pippin repeated. "For playing!"

"That's a silly game," Merry laughed at his ridiculous baby cousin. "Let's play hide and seek. You hide and I'll come and look for you."

"All right," Pippin was happy for Merry to play any kind of game with him. "You dot to dook at me dough!"

"Look for you Pip," Merry corrected automatically. "I will, but don't hide too well, or I might not find you! Quickly now, I'm going to start counting!"

As Merry covered his eyes and began counting aloud, Pippin scurried off across the field. There was a ditch on the far side and Pippin half crawled and half tumbled down to the bottom. He scrambled behind some tree roots and clutched his hands round his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Merry took his time; he had stopped counting as soon as Pippin was out of earshot. His little cousin always hid in the same place, the ditch at the bottom of the field, so he would not take too much finding. After what seemed like a decent interval, he sauntered over to the ditch and, dropping to his hands and knees, stuck his head over the edge saying, "come out Pip, I've found you!"

Nothing! There was no response at all, not even a barely suppressed giggle.

Merry jumped down into the ditch and ran all the way along it in one direction and then back the other way, scrambling through brambles, which left bleeding scratches on his hands and face, and stinging nettles, making their piercing white hives rise up on his ankles and calves. Merry barely noticed the hurts, frantic as he was to find little Pippin.

"Pip! Pippin, where are you? Come out now, I give up. Pippin! Peregrin Took! Come out at once, or I'll... I'll tell your Mummy!" There were few dire threats that Merry could think to lay upon a three year old. His own experience of discipline veered erratically between over indulgence from his grandfather to inappropriately harsh treatment from his father by way of compensation.

After a half an hour's fruitless search, Merry began to really panic. He ran to the farmhouse and the first person he found was actually the last person he wanted to see.

"Auntie Eg! I can't find Pippin!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Eglantine wiped her hands on her apron, the note of panic in her voice belaying her calm words. She had not been completely confident about letting her young nephew watch her precious son, but there was much to do at harvest time and she could not trust the cooks or her daughters to manage all the bottling and pickling on their own, to say nothing of the pies and brawn that had to be seen to. "Where is he?"

"We were playing hide and seek," Merry explained breathlessly. "But when I looked in the usual place, he wasn't there and I've looked everywhere else!"

"Well you can't have looked everywhere else," Pearl could always be relied upon to stay calm and she could see her mother was close to a fit of the vapours. "Otherwise you would have found him! Don't worry Merry, he can't have gone far. I'll organise a search party."

Pearl was correct, Pippin had not gone far, but nevertheless, he proved quite difficult to find. It was not until Jake the shepherd came in from the high pasture and set his dog Minnie on the trail, after giving her Pippin's coat to sniff that the mystery was solved.

Jess was an old and experience sheepdog. She was retired now, but had worked the Whitwell farm for twenty years. When young Minnie had been brought in to replace her, at first she would still accompany her master and supervise the apprentice, making sure no lamb was missed or that no ewe got above herself and forgot to show the dogs proper respect. But eventually the distance got too much for her and Jess contented herself with wandering around the lower pastures on her own, checking that everything was in order.

It was on one of her daily rounds that she came across Pippin huddled in the ditch. She knew this small human very well. He had ridden on her back before now and she was always gentle with it as it was no more than a lamb and obviously quite precious to the other humans. She also knew for certain that it should not be in a ditch on its own!

Carefully she took it by the scruff and pulled it out of the ditch. It obviously wasn't hurt as it struggled and tried to make her let go, but she did not take any nonsense from lambs that needed looking after.

Once out of the ditch she held it by the hand, her soft mouth gently but firmly closed over the little paw, as she led it to the safety of the sheep folds in the big barn. By now it was complying quite happily and chattering away as they walked.

"I dot to doe in de big barn," it muttered incomprehensibly. "Daddy sayed it doo dan-jer-oos door me! Is we doe-ing to hide in dere Dess?"

Jess took no notice. Some words had meaning for her, but this garbled nonsense meant no more than the bleating of a lamb. She selected a lambing fold, as these had tightly woven willow hurdles which stopped new born lambs getting out and went a long way to preventing rats from getting in.

Letting go of her charge's hand for a moment, Jess leant her front paws on the fence so that she could unlatch the gate. That done, she skilfully manoeuvred the small creature into the pen and then replaced the latch, confident that he would now be safe until a larger master came to find him. Besides, this was where she always put lost lambs, so it seemed to fit the bill.

Pippin by now was utterly confused and more than a little frightened. There were two large, and heavily pregnant, ewes in the enclosure. They were both the result of a badly secured gate and an over-enthusiastic ram which was why they were in confinement out of the usual season. The ewes were both very interested in Pippin and came over to take a look.

Sheep are not generally considered dangerous or particularly threatening, but to a very small hobbit they were extremely daunting, especially in an enclosed pen with no escape. Pippin squealed as the first approached and sniffed him, he flapped his hands at it and tried to kick it. The sheep let out a noisy "meerrrr!" which set the other off and they both began a bleating chorus that was even more frightening to the small child.

Pippin was close to panic when all at once a gentle voice told him not to be frightened. "_Spleegghh splook,"_ it seemed to say. Then his friend was beside him, sheltering him from the sheep and making them keep their distance.

When they found him, Pippin was fast asleep in the pen and both sheep were cowering against the far side as if nervous of the small child.

As Merry sat shivering with shock and cold in the drain below Barad-dûr, recalling the incident, he realised what had brought it to mind. When Pippin had related his version of events, Merry had shaken his head and snorted when the little one explained that Eroo a'Reroo, his special friend, had been looking after him.

Pearl caught the disapproval and took Merry to one side. "Why do you do that?" She asked crossly.

"Do what?" Merry was genuinely baffled.

"Look so incredulous whenever Pippin, or anyone else for that matter, talks about _'pretend'_, why does it matter? Can't you just go along with it, even if it's not what you think?"

"I... don't know?" Merry frowned. "It just bothers me. Either something is real, or it isn't. I don't see the point in making things up."

"But it can be a lot of fun, Merry," it was Pearl's turn to be baffled. "You're too young to be so cynical. Besides, on this occasion, don't you see how much it helped Pippin? He really though his odd imaginary friend was there with him. He might have been scared to death otherwise."

And eventually Merry had understood, at least where Pippin was concerned he was willing to go along with make-believe. And he learned that _'pretend'_ was not only for fun, sometimes it was what you needed to help you survive. Right now he needed to believe that Pippin was still alive somewhere, even though he couldn't feel him, and if that involved _'pretend'_ or maybe just blind hope, then so be it. Because otherwise he might as well fling himself into the fires of Mount Doom and have done with it.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Well he ain't here, that's for certain," Smagnu opened a large door that led out onto a balcony. "Dunno where else to look."

"There's no one here," Majdi was puzzled. "Wonder what those guards thought they were guarding?"

"Well they ain't guarding it now," Smagnu flashed a hideous orc grin at his companion as he picked up a golden goblet and shoved it into a copious inside pocket. "Make a good team you and me!"

"Hmmp!" Majdi snorted. "I didn't think we'd come here to loot and pillage. I thought we were on a rescue mission."

"Force of habit," Smagnu shrugged. "Never know when something might come in handy."

"Or get you into a lot of trouble," Majdi was not above a little pilfering himself, but he knew when to be careful. "Let's get out of here while there's still time."

"After you," Smagnu was still doing a swift inventory to see if there was anything of value. "I'm right behind you."

"Uh-oh!" Majdi had opened the door and quickly slammed it shut again. "You probably should have finished off that bloke, Phairie. It looks like he went for reinforcements."

"Bugger!" Smagnu finished his looting, buckled his coat and drew his sword. "Can we take 'em?"

"You can if you like," Majdi snorted. "But odds of twenty to two are not to my taste."

"Men or orcs?" Smagnu asked, as if that made a difference.

"Both," Majdi confirmed, putting his shoulder up against the door as Smagnu shoved a halberd through the hasps.

"D'you think we can talk our way out?" Smagnu suggested.

"They don't seem... to be in a... particularly listening mood," Majdi's voice was broken up by the jarring of the door as he strained to keep it bolted.

"Maybe they'll get bored," Smagnu threw his considerable weight into the barricade.

"For an orc..." the door shook constantly now with the battering. "You're quite the optimist!"

"Yeah," Smagnu grunted. "I've been taking lessons."

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

Thank you all who read and double thanks to all who read **_and_** reviewed!

**Pip4**: No – sorry, I'm not.

**ebbingnight**: Indeed! Ringbearers should stay alert – although I'm not sure it was the best place to put it?

**Pippinfan:** "_don't believe any Maia can be two places at once"_. Well they possibly could, but... Hope your essay went all right!

**GW:** Lovely shiny review! _"There is nothing worse than being eaten by a Spider! Don't they know that?"_ Possibly, not being eaten by a spider, but **_nearly_** being eaten by a spider? Think about it? Hmm...

PS: Hope you liked your sheep in this one!

**Llinos**


	65. Mater Semper Certa Est

**Mater Semper Certa Est  
Chapter 156/65**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Run Bloggin, Run!" Frodo had been dropped by Sauron as soon as the Ring had left his hand and had rolled over to see the little orc staring in petrified terror as the fearsome monster stalked towards him, a massive clawed hand poised to grab him.

"What is this? A filthy maggot of an orc!" Bloggin stayed frozen to the spot in shock. The only part of him willing to work was his bladder. The malice-laden voice seemed to come from the very rock and thundered around the cavern, drowning out even the roar of the tumult below. "Simple enough to tear in half and retrieve what is Mine!"

As the claw reached down, Bloggin, jolted by panic, suddenly found his body again. He dropped to the ground and rolled over and over, narrowly missing being seized with each turn, until he came up against the solid rock.

Desperately Frodo pushed himself up on his hands and managed to stagger to his feet, maybe he could do something, anything to distract attention away from the orc? At least he could try! As he lurched forward he tripped over a lifeless body, sprawled across the cave floor. "Pippin!" His cousin's face had a deathly pallor and he did not seem to be breathing.

Before Frodo could properly register this horror, his senses were shocked again. A strident clang reverberated in his ears, followed by a terrible roar. As he looked up he gasped in awe-struck disbelief.

A proud upright figure stood between Sauron and the trembling orc. In his hand shone a gleaming sword. The black, clawed hand that had reached out to take Bloggin lay severed on the ground.

Aragorn was breathing fast, but his voice did not falter. "Yield destroyer! You have tasted this blade before and now it is reforged it will be your bane once more unless you surrender to the justice that you deserve!"

Sauron made no immediate reply, but his horrifying incarnation appeared to implode into a dense black cloud, then, with a ghastly screech, the miasma ruptured outward to coalesce into an even more gruesome manifestation that was closer in form to Balrog than Man.

"My power has grown beyond pathetic mortal understanding!" The Sauron creature snarled. "Do not try to assail your Master! Upstart and usurper that you are, for you will fail!"

Aragorn, unflinching, raised his sword once more and began to advance upon his adversary. "I am the heir of Elendil and Isildur and my sword is Andúril, which is the great Narsil, reforged. As you were defeated before so shall you be vanquished again!"

But before he could fall upon Sauron, Gandalf silhouetted against the light from the cleft in the mountain, called out to him. "Aragorn, wait! He is drawing power from the countless souls that have perished at His hand. His form is not truly corporeal and you may not be able to hurt it permanently."

"Olórin the Meddler is wiser than you, fool! This body cannot be harmed," The Balrog shape turned towards Gandalf, its wings of smoke and flame spreading out across the cavern, and saw that the little orc was now cowering in the folds of the Maia's cloak. "But this shape can take – and tear apart putrid maggots to find That which was stolen by your filthy antecedents!"

Frodo too, had left Pippin's lifeless body where it lay and stumbled across to Gandalf. "Bloggin has It," he whispered urgently. "He swallowed It!"

"I know," Gandalf stepped forward to shield the hobbit and the orc. "It was a brave act, but foolish."

"Foolish!" The word spewed forth in a blast of flame. Frodo felt his hair singed by the heat. "You may yet thwart the mighty Sauron, but will you cast this worm into the Fires of Doom? For that is the only way to overcome My power." The creature seemed to be laughing. "You will not! For you are weak! This is why you will fail!"

"I will protect him from you," Gandalf retorted, "with the last breath in my body, for if I fail to do that I have become more base than even Saruman!"

"What mendacity is this?" Sauron sneered. "How many orcs have you slain in your time? You wish only to preserve the runt to retrieve the One Ring, My Ring, for yourself!"

"For all your foresight and necromancy," Gandalf snapped, "how little you comprehend those you would wish to conquer."

"It is not too late Olórin," Sauron's form seemed to waver. "Give It to Me now and we shall rule together and I will give you these little Shire creatures that you seem to favour."

"I would not ally myself with you," Gandalf retorted. "Nor do I desire your Ring, for I would become as corrupt and cruel as you, which to me would be worse than defeat! I will protect this innocent creature from you no matter what the cost."

"And so shall I," Aragorn placed himself foursquare beside Gandalf, sheltering the little folk. "Even if it is the last thing I do in this life."

"I... I have no sword," Frodo came forward now. "But I will do whatever I can to save little Bloggin."

Sauron made no reply, but His form grew solid once more and suddenly in His ethereal claw was a many thonged whip of fire. It crackled like lightening as it slashed through the air.

Bloggin, crouched and trembling behind Gandalf, had listened in awe to the two great Maiar debating what seemed to be his fate. That the Great Lord Wizard Gandalf and the Grand General of the Army, as well as the little halfling Lord should protect him from this powerful and mighty Demon Master was beyond his understanding.

Although Bloggin was ignorant in the extreme he was not actually stupid. He had by now worked out that the ring he had swallowed was needed by the Demon Master to help Him to dominate all the people everywhere, but that the Lord Wizard Gandalf wanted It destroyed so that no one could be in charge of everyone and everything.

But most importantly to him, Bloggin had worked out that, although these Great Lords could dispose of the piece of ju-lorry inside him by chucking him into the fiery river, they wouldn't do that.

Why did these great people care about him?

Bloggin and his brother Sniggin had always looked out for each other, but they were rare among orcs. It was mostly because they were twins, born and raised together, but there was something else, something that both the orc brothers had, against all the odds, gained a vague impression about when they were quite young – that caring about someone and having them care about you might actually be quite important.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Bloggin had told Grutfley once that he and Sniggin had a Dada, and that he had taught them to make stew out of nothing. This was true, up to a point, but the orc they called Dada had almost certainly not fathered them, although he fathered most of the orcs in their particular pod, for it was his job.

Dada was a small, unimposing specimen, chosen specifically to breed little orcs that would be subservient and biddable. It was also his job to make sure that they were. As well as teaching his vast brood to make stew, to scavenge for what they needed, to fetch and carry, he also had to teach them to expect little and get less and to obey orders instantly and without question. But most importantly he had to teach them that they didn't matter and were completely expendable.

But they also had a Mama.

It was unusual for these small breeds of orcs to stay with their dams for any longer than it took to wean them, which generally took around six to eight weeks. But Sniggin and Bloggin's Mama had been an exception. She was not meant to breed.

Mama was an old female who was there to feed and clean up after the newly weaned orcs. She did not have time to spend nurturing or caring for them over and above what was needed for them to survive and grow, nor would she have cared to do so, it was not in her sphere of experience. It was a cushy job compared to many and so she stuck to what it required.

Then one day, when she had accompanied Dada to collect the latest batch of pups, he had told her to wait outside the farm as his mates there had got hold of some grog. Females were not allowed strong drink nor were they permitted to be around when it was being imbibed and he did not want her to spoil his chances of a good piss-up.

But she had grown impatient and curious and had crept into the bunkhouse where the orc lads were making merry.

No one knew who the father was, including Mama and she didn't much care anyway. She hid her pregnancy carefully, intending to just slip the result in with her other charges when the time came. No one kept accurate records anyway and she knew she'd have no trouble passing it off as just another one from the farm.

When the time came she had taken herself off to the cellar and barred the hatch to be sure no one discovered her sin. But she hadn't reckoned with the agony and pain of giving birth and then, once it had arrived, she couldn't understand why her body was still squirming and contracting and making her want to push. She knew there should be a placenta, but that should just slide out easily.

Then it was over and as she lay exhausted and traumatised on the cellar floor, she decided to take a good look at the two little grubs that had caused her such trouble.

She picked up the helpless little mites, one in each arm, and was lost for all time. Usually orc brood females are not given their babies to hold as they deliver them. They are only passed back for feeding and then quite often not even the right baby to the right mother. For a good reason!

Mama found that once she had laid eyes on her two new little baby males and felt them wriggle against her body, their tiny feet and hands flailing desperately around, that this was what she wanted more than anything else she had ever known in her whole life.

Generally orc younglings are harvested after around six or seven years of steady growing. She and Dada had charge of around 100 of various ages most of the time. Mama had always intended to put her offspring in with the general rabble and let them go off when the time came, but something inside her had changed.

For several years she had managed to hide them when the army orcs had come to collect the newly ripe recruits, with so many charges it wasn't difficult to keep two back. Dada knew, but never said anything as they seemed to keep her happy.

She kept them close always, even giving them names, Sniggin for how he would snigger a little laugh when tickled and Bloggin because of the way his eyes would grow big and ogling if given a treat.

Bloggin remembered his Mama. He remembered how she would hack clumps off his hair with her knife if it got too matted, how she would chew the tougher morsels, like rat tails and bird claws for him and Sniggin. How she would clip Sniggin's ear if their play got too rough or, if they hurt themselves badly, would lick it better for them. He remembered her showing them which fungus you could eat and which would kill you and how to pick a pocket without getting your fingers chopped off. She taught them to sew, both clothes and wounds, and how to make a necklace or soup out of discarded teeth.

Bloggin couldn't imagine life without his Mama then. He thought she was the smartest, prettiest, kindest most adorable creature that ever lived. Then one day the soldiers came.

Sniggin and he had been shoved in the cellar and told to keep quiet. This happened every so often, although they never knew why and didn't question it. Suddenly the hatch was pulled back and a raucous voice from above shouted, "What's all this? What the fug are these doing down here? They look to be full growed and ready to go!"

"No Captain, sir no!" Their Mama's voice. "They's just a bit slow, not right for the army at all. Prob'ly git theyselves and youselves killted right orf!"

"Well they ain't no use hanging round in no cellar," A bug-eyed orc descended the ladder. "Come on youse two maggots, git yourselves up out o' here. Got a nice job jest a'waitin' fer yer!"

Bloggin and Sniggin had scrambled up the ladder at Bug-eye's prodding and run behind their Mama. A whole squad of orcs in army togs were in the big kitchen with a dozen younglings roped together in a line.

"C'mere youse," Bug-eye pushed Mama aside and grabbed hold of Sniggin. She recovered quickly and wrapped an arm tightly around Bloggin and tried to grab at Sniggin with the other.

"Yer have to let 'em go," Dada was in the kitchen now. "You've had a good run, now hand 'em over."

"No! No! No!" Mama sounded hysterical. Sniggin and Bloggin had never seen her like this before. Sniggin managed to pull away from Bug-eye and ran back to his Mama, wrapping both arms around her legs.

"You stupid old hag!" Bug-eye shouted. "If'n youse bred them yourself there'll be trouble. You ain't fit to pod no brats, even if'n they's is just cannon fodder."

"Well they is mine," Mama shouted back. "An' you ain't having 'em. You got enough an' I'm keeping 'em!"

"Thass it!" Bug-eye snatched a loaded crossbow from one of the soldiers and shot the bolt at point-blank range straight through Mama's forehead.

Sniggin screamed in protest and horror and ran at the killer, trying to batter him with both fists. Bug-eye merely laughed and indicated to the soldiers to tie him with the others.

Bloggin uttered no cry, his brain froze and his fingers tightened around Mama's wrist as he tried to make the dead hand stroke his face. It eventually took three soldiers to wrench him away.

It was over a year before Bloggin uttered another word. When he did, all he could say at first was "Mama!"

~.~.~.~.~.~

And as Bloggin crouched, trembling and crying, behind the sheltering cloak of the Great White Wizard, remembering his Mama, he realised at last what he needed to do and why.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_'Merry? Merry my dearest, talk to me.'_

_'legolas'_

_'Where are you now?'_

_'am sit in drain'_

_'You did not find Pippin.'_

_'smag and he man look at he now'_

_'Merry, I am going to come and get you. You must get out of the drain and go outside.'_

_'not get i and we not get pip'_

_'Perhaps your friends have found him. Where are they now?'_

_'up high go in towrer – go at sauron think'_

_'That is very bold of them.'_

_'is'_

_'How long have they been gone?'_

_'time and time... not know good'_

_'One hour? Two hours?'_

_'is'_

_'I will go to the tower to see what has happened. But you must promise me you will get out of the drain now.'_

_'how you can go in towrer?'_

_'Trust me Merry, I can! Just promise me you will get out of the drain and go outside.'_

_'...'_

_'Merry!'_

_'how you go look?'_

_'Merry, get out of the drain now!'_

A beat... a pause...

_'Are you listening? Merry?'_

_'mmm...'_

_'Are you going?'_

_'will'_

_'Promise?'_

_'promsis'_

As Legolas faded from his mind, Merry continued to sit in the darkness. He felt somehow that if he left the tower he would be abandoning Pippin. He shook his head to clear it. He was being ridiculous, Pippin wasn't in the drain and Smagnu and Majdi had been gone an awfully long time. Reluctantly he began to crawl forward towards where he knew the light was dimly glowing.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Legolas was becoming quite accomplished at steering the flying beast to where he wanted to go, partly with mind control but increasingly by using the natural ability that Elves have with all creatures.

Sam and Grubbus had been set down on the northern slopes of the Ered Lithui where, Legolas had reasoned, they could manage to make their own way out of Mordor if he failed to return. Sam had protested until Legolas pointed out that the fell beast could only carry so many passengers and he was hoping to find at least some of the others.

"Whatever else happens now," Legolas had explained gently, "You, Samwise have acquitted yourself with honour. It was no mean feat to release the male beast; brave as well as clever. Gandalf will be proud of you."

"Well," Sam had looked down at the rocks to hide his blushes. "Just so long as Mr Frodo understands I wasn't leaving him to his fate. I wouldn't want to do anything to spoil his chances of getting away as it were."

The Fell Beast had made good time, she obviously knew the route to the Dark Tower well and Legolas had focussed his mind to persuade her that chicks would eventually be forthcoming if she heeded his wishes.

As he circled the ominous pinnacle, Legolas knew he should not linger. There was a foreboding emanating from the very stone which had taken him by surprise, but more surprising was that the Great Eye Itself did not appear to be focussed upon anything. While this might seem to favour his exploit, Legolas was wary at the lack of attention he was attracting.

As he circumnavigated the Tower for the second time, Legolas saw two figures perched on a balcony. His Elven eyes could easily discern a Man and an Orc – an Uruk-hai! Pippin had gone with an Uruk, this he knew, and Merry had talked about him – Smagnude? Also Merry had mentioned a Man who was helping him. Could this be the pair? The two who had left with Merry earlier? And had they found Pippin?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Whilst still keeping his weight firmly against the juddering door, Majdi Rann cast a professional eye over the rest of the room. The current position would not do at all; they were at an impasse. The battering at the door was not going to stop until their assailants had broken through and the door was not going to yield with them holding it. However, with them holding it they could not devise any other means of escape.

"If we let go," Majdi ventured, "how long do you think before they break in?"

"Two minutes? Three?" Smagnu rolled his shoulder round so that his back was braced up against the onslaught. "If I hold it on my own for a spell, can you pull that table over? That might give us another five minutes I reckon."

"Right," Majdi winced as the door vibrated violently without his support. "I'll probably be grateful for the extra five minutes of life before I plunge to a certain death on the rocks below." He heaved the heavy table into place. "I can use it to consider how else I might have spent my day."

"Eh?" Smagnu was a very literal creature. "Don't see the point in that."

"What? Well..." Majdi was not familiar with beings who did not understand irony. "I meant... never mind. Let's just see what our chances are of getting out of here."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry had finished wiping the worst of the sewer muck from himself and was climbing back into his britches when he saw the fell beast overhead. Automatically he ducked back against the wall, turning his face towards the rock. Like all hobbits, Merry was good at vanishing and knew that the most visible part of any sentient being is their face.

As the shadow of the beast passed over him, Merry kept his mind firmly battened down. If a Nazgûl were in the vicinity it would be most unwise to communicate with the elf. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he flattened his body to the ground and began to crawl away from the Tower, trying to follow the same route that he and Pippin had taken when they had originally escaped and met up with Smagnu and Grutfley, only this time he was not sure that anyone would be waiting for him. Added to which, Merry tried vainly to push away the sad thought, he was all alone now.

-TBC-

**Notes**:  
Sorry for the paucity of _"Pippin"_ in this chapter – I haven't abandoned him forever!

**Joban**: Nice to see you! But school is important – wait until you get a job, then you can slope off occasionally!

**Pip4**: I think Jess has a bit of Welsh Border Collie in her – they will do stuff like that. I remember one teaching my stupid dog to play tag – amazing!

**Pippinfan:** I reckon a bit of escape is good when things are getting hot!

**Guest**: (Is that you Poppy?) Eroo a'Reroo in real life was actually my daughter's imaginary friend when she was little and I just borrowed him for this story. So I think he was/is imaginary – or I did – but maybe not so much – who knows?

**GW**: As you know – I am an eternal optimist and something of an orc as well – so maybe Smag is my Mary-Sue? You've raised so many difficulties and problems to resolve from this chapter I'm quite scared! It's a good job I've already figured them all out! Ha! Glad you like the sheep, as always I wrote them with you in mind and they are really your sheep – perhaps you'd like Jess as well – just to keep them in order?

As always – many, many thanks to all who read and especially to those who reviewed!

**Llinos**


	66. Alea Iacta Est

**Alea Iacta Est**  
Chapter 157/66

by **Llinos  
**beta **Marigold**

"You! Orc!" Legolas shouted down from the back of the fell beast, which was now perched on the crenulations of the Tower. Although he had a good memory and excellent eyesight, he had been a little preoccupied on their first meeting so needed to make sure this was the right one. "What is your name?"

"Smagnu," he shouted back. "Are you the Little Pips' Elf?" Smagnu was fairly sure it was, but in truth all elves looked the same to him.

"Did you find Pippin?" Legolas ignored the question, it seemed obvious to him that he was. "And where is Merry?"

"Merry?"

Legolas quickly replayed numerous overheard mindspeak conversations, "New Little Pip?"

"We left him in the drain," Smagnu's information was not exactly news to Legolas, but it did at least confirm the orc's identity.

"Should you not be going back for him?" Legolas demanded. "If you've not found Pippin?"

"Can't get out of here without getting our bollocks and heads torn off," Smagnu explained bluntly. He knew how orcs operated. "Can you give us a ride on that thing?"

"You will have to lose some weight," Legolas cast an appraising eye over the two fugitives, "and be quick!"

"I don't think we can reduce our body mass that quickly," Majdi prided himself on being in good shape anyway. "I'm not that fat!"

"Well you've a good chance of losing some of your body quite soon," Smagnu pointed out. "Possibly an arm, maybe a leg, best chance though is your head."

"No!" Legolas was getting as close to exasperation as an elf can. "I mean, lose the weapons; empty out your pockets, take off your boots, anything that will lighten the load, or the beast will not be able to carry you."

"Right Chief!" Smagnu, who had been realistically resigned to dying sometime in the next 10 minutes, suddenly realised there might be a chance for survival and began emptying his loot.

"Got yourself quite a little haul there," Majdi noted as he pulled his own heavy boots off. "Shame you got to leave it all."

"Easy come, easy go," Smagnu had always been philosophical about ill-gotten gains. Trinkets and treasure could be stolen at any opportune time; new Smagnus were harder to come by. "Just need to get out of here!"

"Wait!" Legolas had been casting a professional eye over the spoils being deposited on the Dark Lord's battlements. The array of brooches, medallions, earrings, bracelets, a golden goblet, a silver circlet were building into a shiny pile, but one item in particular caught his eye. "Bring that! It might be useful. Now we need to go – quickly!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Bloggin," Gandalf spoke levelly and quietly. "Is there any chance you could regurgitate that Ring you just swallowed?"

"No, Sir Wizzard Master," Bloggin had already poked an experimental finger down his throat. "It's gone right down. S'only gonna come out t'other end now I reckon."

Sauron's Balrog seemed to grow larger, the darkness of it filling the cavern, its hideous form illuminated by the fire that streamed from its nostrils and mouth. Aragorn stepped forward and smote at it with his powerful sword, swiping through the creature's wing and leg with one mighty blow.

"Listen carefully," Gandalf stooped so that both Frodo and Bloggin could hear him more easily. "I want you two to run for your lives when I say. Frodo, you stay close to Bloggin. There are some friends outside and you must make sure they take care of you both. Do not let them leave him behind!"

"Yes Gandalf," Frodo watched in horror as the Balrog's detached limbs coalesced, first into black smoke and then swirled up to join the already growing body. "Can Aragorn defeat it... Him?"

"No mortal can conquer mist and smoke," Gandalf began to back up, pushing Bloggin and Frodo closer to the entrance. "But a Man of Aragorn's might may be able to hold it for a while. I too will do what I can."

Sauron's manifestation took form again. Mist swirled down from above and met with the smoke that writhed frantically as it drew the sundered parts together. The icy vapour solidified and steam rose from shimmering blue-black scales as a plume of fiery breath cooled on the frozen figure. No longer a Balrog, but a six headed hydra that filled the cavern. A long tail thrashed fury at the creatures that opposed Him and two mighty wings splayed out obscuring what little light there was as the dragon reared up ready to strike.

"Go now!" Gandalf ordered. "He has become fire and ice, a deadly combination. There is not much time!"

"What about Pippin?" Frodo whispered frantically. "We can't just leave him!"

"You must," Gandalf stood now, facing the monster, his arms outspread to protect the orc and hobbit. "I will bring him if I can, now go!"

Aragorn did not flinch as the dragon reared up. Andúril flashed blue and red as the beast's fire and ice reflected off the blade, but the sword's mighty stroke took two heads from the dragon's body.

The creature barely seemed to notice and struck out at Aragorn, knocking him to the ground and then drawing back to shoot fire and brimstone from three heads at the prone man.

The first blast missed, as Aragorn, quickly sensing his danger, rolled out of the path of the flames. The dragon drew breath and fired once more and again Aragorn managed to avoid the worst of the blast, although his left arm and leg were badly scorched causing him agonising pain.

As the dragon made ready to finish off his prey, a great white light suddenly filled the cavern, dousing the flames. Gandalf had unleashed the power of his staff, which he had been holding back until now, knowing that he would not be able to keep Sauron at bay for long with his command.

Frodo turned towards the entrance and grabbed Bloggin's arm to pull him along. The little orc realised that events were moving fast and that he did not have much time left. The hobbit's grip was tight and, not sure what else to do, Bloggin sank his teeth into Frodo's hand.

Frodo was startled into letting go and, before he could understand what was happening, Bloggin scrambled off in the opposite direction. He ran through Gandalf's legs, taking the Wizard by surprise and upsetting his balance so that he ended up sitting rather than standing. The white light went out.

The dragon saw the movement and turned towards the running orc.

"Bloggin no!" Frodo, realising now what was happening, had turned around. "Come back!"

"Bloggin! Don't!" Gandalf could also see what the little orc intended. "We will find another way!"

But Bloggin was determined. He would give anything to stop the misery and pain that this monster inflicted upon innocents like him and Sniggin as well as all these grand people who seemed to care about him so much. Anything to stop the unfairness and cruelty he had suffered most of his life. Anything to prevent others living under the yoke of slavery that he and his kind endured. Anything to stop mothers being killed on a whim! Anything at all!

So his life seemed a small thing to give! Such a tiny thing...

... and with that thought, Bloggin hurled himself into the seething, fiery river!

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

What occurred in the next few moments always remained a blur in Frodo's memory, but, as far as he could piece it together, this is what happened.

As he looked round, he saw that Bloggin had jumped over the edge into the lava flow. Also he realised that Sauron, in the form of the dragon, was reaching to pluck the small orc from the air and that He would most likely succeed as Gandalf was struggling to get to his feet and retrieve his staff and Aragorn was badly wounded from the fire strike.

Although it is true that hobbits can jump a surprising distance at need, the span that Frodo managed in the cavern of Mount Doom was nothing short of miraculous!

More importantly, in the fraction of a second before he leapt, he had realised that no matter what he did, brave little Bloggin was destined to die. Either the Dark Lord would seize him and rip him apart to retrieve the Ring, or he would fall to a fiery end in the Cracks of Doom. Frodo would have gladly sacrificed himself to bring about the end of the reign of Sauron, but it was not to be. Nevertheless, he could ensure that Bloggin's end would not be futile.

He landed with both hands and feet upon the gigantic tail of the beast and, seizing it with all his waning strength, used the momentum of his jump to roll around and gain purchase on the cavern floor, then pulled with all his might.

It was surprise more than force which arrested Sauron's chase and the hydra turned Its remaining three heads around to attack the insect that was hindering Him. Frodo shut his eyes as the horrifying dragon heads drew back to strike; the three decapitated necks writhing blindly around and spurting green blood.

But the few seconds gained were enough. The blast never came.

As Bloggin's thin body melted in the molten rock, the fires of Mount Doom found the Ring and It was consumed – never to be remade and beyond the reach of Sauron forever.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Even as the fell beast took off with her new passengers on board, the entrance through which Smagnu and Majdi had reached the battlements was filled with enraged men and orcs screaming vengeance upon the fugitives. But moments later their screams turned to cries of anguish.

Lhûgdonn, for so Legolas had named her, circled swiftly up into a sky turned an angry red. In the distance there was a terrible rumbling and their eyes were drawn to Mount Doom. The throbbing grew to a great tumult and the Mountain seemed to shake with rage. Great sparks and tongues of fire flew up from its depths and lightning arced across the summit.

Beneath them the Tower of Barad-dûr trembled and then began to crumble stone by stone. Great fissures splayed out across the terrain and gigantic rocks melted into the earth.

"Merry!" Legolas gasped in horror. Then...

_'Merry?'_

Nothing...

_'Merry? Please!'_

_'is'_

Through the turmoil and havoc a small thrumming returned to Legolas's consciousness. "Merry, New Little Pip that is," he called to his passengers, "he has somehow survived this. We must find him." Legolas did not wait for the others to concur, but threw all his concentration into finding his friend.

_'Merry, where are you?'_

_'not'_

_'Merry, please do not make this difficult for me. I am going to find you.'_

"Oi Elf!" Legolas's concentration was suddenly interrupted by a thump on his back from Smagnu. "I think we've got a problem!"

Lhûgdonn had in fact seen the problem before Smagnu. She baulked at Legolas's attempt to steer her around to circle the area of the fallen Tower and, throwing her head forward, flew off in the direction of the Ered Lithui, pursued by several large and unfriendly looking eagles.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry lay face down on the rock, partly to avoid being seen but also because he felt so wretched he could barely bring himself to move any further. Although he was unaware of the fact, he had reached the spot where he and Pippin had originally joined up with Smagnu and Grutfley and was not sure what he would do next.

Then suddenly it seemed as if the whole world exploded. The ground shook and then fractured all around him. Without any thought of self-preservation, Merry automatically clung to the lip of the rock on which he was lying, vaguely aware that if he let go he would plummet to certain death in the chasm that had opened up beside him.

It was then that he heard Legolas call to him. So distraught and disorientated was he that Merry could barely think, let alone give his friend a coherent answer, and then, abruptly, the elf was gone.

Merry looked up at the fuming sky and was vaguely aware of a fell beast streaking past overhead, chased by what appeared to be very large eagles.

"At least," he thought, "I don't have to worry about the Nazgûl anymore. Perhaps I should just let go? It would be over quite quickly that way."

In spite of the cacophony of grinding rocks and explosions, the loud snort startled Merry, mainly because it was so close to his ear. He rolled over, away from the fissure, and sat up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Frodo! Frodo!" Gandalf's voice cut through the nightmare until he realised that this was not a dream at all. "Quickly, we must go!"

Frodo blinked himself properly awake. The dragon's tail he had been clinging to was a shrivelled, blackened root, all that was left of the creature. Frodo dropped the thing in disgust and it writhed like a snake across the cavern floor and slithered into the chasm, as if Sauron was making one last desperate bid to find the Ring.

Aragorn, clearly favouring his injured side, grabbed Frodo by the arm and began bundling him towards the threshold. The cavern was lit now by a fearsome red glow and fires leapt up and licked the roof while beneath them the lava roiled and swirled in a tumult of eruption. Frodo could see Gandalf ahead of them with poor Pippin's body slung over his shoulder. For a moment Frodo had thought that the Wizard would consign his cousin's remains to the chasm. "At least," Frodo thought, "we will be able to give him a decent burial; that is if any of us make it to safety."

As they reached the brink of the Sammath Naur, before them lay such a manifestation of destruction, each stood petrified for a moment in shock and wonder.

All around, the earth trembled and great fissures and chasms had opened up like monstrous gaping mouths. The walls of Mount Doom were crumbling around them as shale and rocks flooded down the mountainside, washed along by torrents of fire. The great Tower of Barad-dûr shuddered and, even as they watched, collapsed in upon itself with, at first a rumble, growing to a deafening roar as the mighty edifice of evil toppled protesting and screaming into the abyss that had opened up around it.

Gandalf had passed Pippin's body to Aragorn to carry and stood now with his arms outstretched as down flew Gwaihir the Windlord and Landroval his brother, followed by Meneldor, young and swift. "The realm of Sauron is ended!" Gandalf cried. "The Quest is fulfilled and now we must depart or be caught in this maelstrom."

"The wind of evil blows across this land," Gwaihir replied. "But we shall outfly it!"

-**TBC**-

**Notes:**

Thanks for reading and especially big thank you's if you reviewed as well!

**Pip4 **writes: _"Huh, I didn't think that's how orcs procreated. But it's your story so you can do what you want."_

Well... Mine and Professor Tolkien's. According to the Prof, "Orcs reproduce after the manner of the Children of Ilúvatar", thus indicating sexual reproduction. In the Hobbit we have an orc named Bolg son of Azog, so they had parents too! It was only Peter Jackson who introduced us to "pod bred" Uruk-hai. There is a mass of speculation all over the internet as to Tolkien's meaning of where Orcs came from, but it seems fairly certain that the smaller orcs did, in fact, reproduce in the regular way. I've put my own spin on how that might have happened of course :D!

**FantasyFan**: Glad to see you back. Your long and thoughtful reviews are so well written and often make me see things in the story from a slightly different pov – so thanks for that! You can sign up for email alerts, so you know when I've posted, but you probably knew that :D

**ebbingnight**: He did! I hope you're all right with that – and...

**LLinos**

**SPOILER ALERT!**

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You've not see the last of Bloggin quite yet!


	67. Interlude

**Interlude  
**Chapter 158/67

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

Once Lhûgdonn had taken flight, the eagles abandoned their pursuit and returned to circle Mount Doom and wait for Gandalf to call them. Legolas, anxious for Merry, tried desperately to turn her but she would not be bullied or cajoled into facing the giant eagles again and headed resolutely towards Ered Lithui.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam and Grubbus had decided to make a start down the mountainside when the tumult came. "I reckon we'd been right in the middle of that lot, Corp," Sam was aghast at the destruction.

"Did you 'ave summat to do wiv this lot?" Grubbus eyed the hobbit suspiciously.

"And Mr Frodo with no one to help him!" There was a catch in Sam's voice that showed he was on the brink of tears. "I should never have let him go off like that!"

"You did – didn't you?" Grubbus persisted. "How did you do all that? Some kinda magick?"

"What?" Sam realised he was being asked a question. "No, not me. That'll be my Mr Frodo!"

"Right," said Grubbus. "I should have guessed!"

x-x-x-x-x-x

Prince Imrahil and the Lord Éomer surveyed the battle plain of Dagorlad, and as their gaze turned south to Mordor, they saw a huge shape of shadow filling all the sky. It reared above the earth and seemed as if it would engulf the land. But it was as impotent as it was terrible, for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it and it was blown away.

And with that passing, their enemies became confused and bewildered. As if waking from a nightmare, they wandered to and fro, aimlessly trying to make sense of their surroundings. Even the Men of Rhûn and Harad, Easterlings and Southron, saw that their cause was lost and threw down their arms.

"The day is ours!" Imrahil declared. "But although our legions were valiant beyond measure and fought with honour and fealty, this was not a battle we were destined to win upon the field. Other forces are at work here."

"Indeed they are," Éomer confirmed. He summoned forward Drâmym and Ŭnomer, who were appointed as his escort. "Let it be known that all who surrender to the Captains of the West will receive clemency. Those who now lay down their arms and sue for peace will be given safe passage and that all wounded, from both sides, will be given help and succour."

"So it should be when war is ended," Imrahil agreed. "For as our cause was just, so shall be our peace."

"We shall fly upon our mission," Drâmym laid his hand across his chest in salute. "But, my Lord, if Men should ask, what shall we say of Lord Aragorn and Mithrandir and Prince Legolas?"

"Or of the Halflings?" Ŭnomer added, although it was as much for their own peace of mind that the Riders asked.

"That it is our hope they will return soon," Éomer understood his men's concern. "For today is their victory as much, if not more, than we who have laboured on the field of conflict, strange though that may seem. Let us hope none of them have paid the highest price for their valour."

x-x-x-x-x-x

"There's a thing I ain't never seen!" Grutfley's subdued tone made it hard to know if he was pleased by what he saw or not. "Orcs giving up on a brawl!"

"Hmph!" Gimli, bereft of his usual comrades, had found himself in the dubious company of the orc, who likewise had latched onto the dwarf in the absence of more compatible companionship. "I have seen many an orc relinquish battle, usually courtesy of my axe!"

"Yeah, but this 'ere is summat more'n just that!" Grutfley suddenly sank to his knees, pulling his arms up over his head. "It... it's like... like they all got lost an' dunno where to go!"

"Here, steady now," Gimli was quite taken aback. He had grown used to the orc trading snipe for snipe with him. "Come on, on your feet. Take my arm."

"Don't think I can," Grutfley let his arms drop to the ground and squinted up at the dwarf. "I'm gonna fall, the earth don't seem to be there!"

"You lived all your life in Barad-dûr you say?" Gimli squatted down to look the orc in the eye. "Well, it seems like the Dark Tower is no more. Perhaps that's what's affecting you."

"You mean...it... it's... " Grutfley could not form the words. He reached out and grabbed Gimli's arm and suddenly his mind seemed to clear. "No Barad-dûr? No Dark Lord?"

"That's right," Gimli held his arm steady and began to ease Grutfley up onto his feet. "It looks like your side lost."

"No," Grutfley shook his head as he leaned against the dwarf. "Looks like my side... our side won!"

x-x-x-x-x-x

Éowyn and Faramir sat opposite each other, their eyes closed, their hands clasped together as if in a lover's embrace.

"Do you hear any of them?" Dysgwr did not like to intrude but, ever since the black cloud had passed over, he had been waiting for news of his erstwhile patients and the tension was almost palpable.

"No," Éowyn opened her eyes, breaking concentration for a moment. "There is nothing. I can read Faramir's mind, but perhaps the hobbits and Legolas are too far for my limited skills."

"But we will continue to try," Faramir looked up now. "We had a vague sense that Merry was distressed, but there is no indication of Pippin at all. There is a soft thrum of Legolas but it is very distant and we cannot make out anything specific."

Once more they closed their eyes and lifted their joined hands up to each rest a cheek upon the closed fists.

They listened...

_'sniff'_

_'hello?'_

_'sniff, sniff, uhh, uhh, sniff,'_

"Oh!" Éowyn broke the contact and looked around.

"I heard it too," Faramir was puzzled. "Someone was crying. Why did you break the link?"

"We heard it because it is close," Éowyn rose to her feet and went to the door. Faramir followed. "There." She walked around to the side of the tent and lifted a piece of discarded sacking. There was a small figure beneath it, curled up and sobbing as if in agony and despair.

"Sniggin?"

x-x-x-x-x-x

As Merry looked up he was startled to see that Shadowfax was kneeling down on his forelegs. At first he thought that the great stallion was injured, but then he realised that he was urging him to climb up onto his back.

"No," Merry spoke to the horse, knowing that he understood what was said to him. "I cannot leave, not without Pippin!"

Shadowfax merely snorted again and leaned forward to nudge Merry with his nose.

"You have to go," Merry tried again. "Run while you still can. This land is crumbling around us and I would not have you die waiting for me. Besides, Gandalf would be furious if I let anything happen to you!"

Still Shadowfax made no attempt to get up. And then Merry realised. He was not going to find Pippin, not in all of this morass, and if he refused to leave, then Shadowfax too would not leave and they would both die. In fact, there was a good chance that Legolas would come back to look for him too.

"All right," Merry clambered to his feet and scrambled up onto the stallion's broad back. "I was being selfish, but you must forgive me, my friend. I have to accept that Pippin is gone and not consign any other of my companions to risk their lives to save me from my own grief. There will be another time and place for that."

As the Lord of the Mearas set off, Merry saw with wonder how this prince among horses leapt over fissures and sure-footedly avoided the cracks and chasms that were still appearing in the ground. At one point Shadowfax cleared a stream of molten lava that most horses would have shied away at, with a heart-stopping jump of over two perches long.

As the tumultuous landscape fled beneath Shadowfax's flying hooves, Merry sent out a tentative message to Legolas.

_'legolas? is i is mer'_

_'Merry! Are you safe? Where are you?'_

_'am safe am go shadowing horses'_

_'You are what?'_

_'horse friend he at gandalf'_

_'You are on Shadowfax?'_

_'am'_

_'Where is he taking you?'_

_'not knows but think he do knowing'_

_'Somewhere safe?'_

_'think is. you not worryering i now i go get good is'_

_'All right Merry. Take care, I'll find you when I can.'_

Neither of them dared to mention Pippin. It was not the right time or place.

x-x-x-x-x-x

End of Interlude  
**_Normal Service To Be Resumed As Soon As Possible_**

**Notes**:

Posted this chapter quickly, back to back with the other, because I'm off on hols and may not be able to post for a couple of weeks. I'll try to post some while I'm away, but internetivity may be sporadic!

See you soon!

**Llinos**


	68. I Know A Man Who Does

**I Know A Man Who Does  
Chapter 159/68**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Don't cover his face," Frodo caught Gandalf's arm as he went to pull the shroud over Pippin. "He looks so peaceful, as if he is sleeping."

"As you should be, Master Baggins," Dysgwr had been administering to the hobbit ever since he had returned to the camp with Gandalf and Aragorn, courtesy of the eagles. "You are still suffering from exhaustion, malnutrition, dehydration, multiple abrasions, cuts and bruises, to say nothing of a crudely severed finger, which is showing signs of infection."

"Hmm," Gandalf laid the white sheet across Pippin's neck instead and bent to take Frodo by both arms, gazing enquiringly into his eyes. "You forgot mental anguish and heartbreak, Master Healer, although I doubt you have an ointment for that."

"Indeed not," Dysgwr agreed. "The only cure of which I know is time."

"I don't think even time can heal this hurt," Frodo said, turning away from Gandalf's gaze. "How is poor Sniggin?"

"I have told him how valiant and brave his brother was," Gandalf stood now and began to guide Frodo out of the tent to his own lodging. "That he made the greatest sacrifice any one can make and will be remembered in story and song for all time, but he neither sups nor sleeps and is racked with sorrow. Aragorn has attempted to bring him some healing, but his skill with orcs is limited."

"I'm dreading telling Merry," Frodo whispered half to himself, "about Pippin."

"I think he already knows," Gandalf said gently. "As soon as you are back in bed I shall go to meet him. Shadowfax is following Landroval, who has flown out to guide his path. The eagle would have borne Merry out of Mordor too, but your cousin did not want to abandon his saviour."

"How did Shadowfax know where Merry was?" Frodo climbed wearily into the cot, trying to ignore the fact that there were now two other similar beds in the tent – waiting for Sam and Merry – and not three as before.

"I sent him off to look for Merry as soon as we arrived at Mount Doom." Gandalf explained. "He had been ridden there by Sauron in his guise as me. Unfortunately he was convinced of the ploy by the fact that Pippin was with him."

"But it wasn't really Pippin," Frodo hated the thought or even possible rumour that his cousin had been in league with the Dark Lord. "He looked right, but everything else was wrong."

"It was Pippin's body," Gandalf confirmed. "But his mind was being controlled by Sauron. That was why, when you and Bloggin knew for certain that it was not me, Sauron no longer bothered to animate Pippin."

"That is so awful," Frodo shuddered at the thought. "Poor little Pippin! Probably just as well he was no longer in his body – that would have been even more frightful for him. He wasn't, was he Gandalf?"

"I am sure he was not." Gandalf poured Frodo a tumbler of water. "Drink this, you still have much healing to do, and please try to sleep. I also have much to do, so it would help if you attend to your task while I attend to mine."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As Gandalf made his way to the top of the camp to wait for Merry, he was joined by several others.

Smagnu and Majdi Rann had been delivered by Legolas who had then turned Lhûgdonn around to search for Sam and his new found companion. Both the Man and the Uruk were anxious for news of Merry and so followed the Wizard to see if they could help or gain any intelligence of the hobbit.

Grutfley had joined Smagnu and was listening to his Captain recount their exploits in Mordor. He was highly suspicious at first of Majdi Rann, but as his part in the adventure grew, so the orc's apprehension of the man lessened.

"So they all thought you'd been et by the spider?" Grutfley sniggered. "You would've give it a right bellyache!"

Gimli was only half listening; or rather he was listening quite avidly but pretending not to. "So Gandalf," The dwarf dragged himself away from his eavesdropping. "I missed Legolas when he dropped off his passengers, how did you say they got here?"

"It would seem our friend has more Elven talents than even we imagined," Gandalf, in spite of his anxiety for Merry managed a half smile. "He managed to tame one of the Nazgûl's fell beasts."

"What?" Gimli spluttered into his beard. He had thought that Legolas had returned with the eagles. "And he was riding it?"

"Quite efficiently from what I saw," Gandalf did not turn round but continued scanning the horizon. "Although apparently, young Samwise was also able to use one for transportation, but not with quite as much control."

"So what's he going to do with it?" Gimli had enough difficulty with riding pillion on a horse. "He's not going to keep it, is he?"

"Well he's given it a name..." Gandalf broke off as he spotted a familiar shape in the distance. "Ah, here comes Shadowfax..."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Merry, come away now," Frodo's sleep had been interrupted again, this time by Gandalf. No one had been able to persuade the hobbit to leave his cousin's body and as a last resort, Frodo had been sent for. "Pippin wouldn't have wanted this, now would he?"

"He's not dead!" Merry turned abruptly, his chin stuck out in the determined manner that Frodo knew so well. "Trust me Frodo, I would know!"

"Listen to me carefully," Frodo took a deep breath; this was going to be hard. "There is no heartbeat, he is not breathing. You have to come and rest now. You've had a hard time and you're exhausted. You have to let him go."

"He's not dead!" Merry repeated.

"Gandalf and Aragorn and the healer, what's his name?"

"Dysgwr," Merry supplied.

"They don't think there is much hope," Frodo ventured. "What do you..."

"They don't know him!" Merry's red-rimmed eyes grew wide and his nostrils flared. "I do, I would know!"

"Perhaps something to make you relax," Frodo knew he was on dangerous ground here, but he had to make Merry understand. "Aragorn gave Sniggin some poppy and he's sleeping now. Maybe if you..."

"That foul poison!" Merry snarled. "That's probably what's done for Pip anyway! Strider should never have given it to him in the first place!"

"All right," Frodo decided to try a different approach. "What makes you think he's still alive?"

"On a practical level," Merry did actually sound quite logical, Frodo thought. Not hysterical. "Although it is hard to detect any heartbeat or breath, his body is still warm and is not decaying. From a personal point of view – I just know! That's it, I know!"

"Well if he is still living," Frodo considered this. "What are we going to do about it? He could remain like this forever."

"What alternative do you suggest?" Merry challenged his cousin. "Bury him?"

"No," Frodo leaned over and stroked Pippin's wayward curl that always fell across his forrid, off his brow. "Of course not. Have you tried to reach him with your mind?"

"What do you think I've been doing?" Merry snapped. Then caught himself, "I'm sorry Fro, I didn't mean to take it out on you. I know you're as devastated as I am, but I've tried everything and I'm not getting anywhere."

"Well, hopefully Legolas will be back soon," Frodo put his arm around Merry's shoulder now he seemed a little calmer. "Perhaps with both of you searching you might have more success."

"Mr Frodo?"

"Sam!" Frodo spun round sighing with relief. "You're back! Are you all right? What about Legolas?"

"We're both fine," Sam cast an appraising eye over his friend. "How about you? Should you be up and about?"

"No," Frodo agreed, but quickly held up a hand to halt any protest. "But Merry is convinced Pippin is still alive, although there are no actual signs of life."

"Yes there are! He..." Merry started but broke off at Frodo's slight head shake. "He just is."

"Well, it's a sorry state of affairs and no mistake," Sam came over to look at Pippin, taking his hand to feel for warmth. "Mr Legolas has gone to find Pippin's Mr Smagnude, though I don't know why. I heard about poor little Bloggin, that was cruel hard."

"I know Sam," Frodo sighed. "He was an honest and brave chap. His poor brother is devastated."

"Why has Legolas gone to look for Smagnude?" Merry gave Sam a puzzled frown. "He should be here, helping me with Pippin."

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "He said he thought Mr Smagnude had something that might help."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin blinked. He had risen from the murky river bed and was looking out upon an endless ocean. The gnawing hunger and cold feeling of death was lifting and Pippin realised that, although all he could see was water, he was no longer actually in the water. Instead he was looking out from a high tower that caught the warming rays of the setting sun.

In all his short life Pippin had never looked out upon an ocean, although he understood the concept, but he had not thought that the horizon would be so far away that he could not even find it. He remembered the vast plains of Rohan, stretching as far as he could see, and how the land seemed to dip and finish at a certain distance, as the sky came down to meet it.

But this was different! The ocean stretched ever onwards with no bend or curve and the sky stayed above it, never meeting the water. There was a grey mist that hung ominously over the waves, as if the clouds were weeping their rain.

"What child are you?" There was a voice, ethereal and sweet.

Pippin was about to protest that he was not a child, but then he sensed the antiquity of the being. It was as if it had always been, as though it had always existed from the first dawn of Middle-earth. Compared to this consciousness, Pippin felt like a newly hatched chick. "I am Pippin – a hobbit," he replied simply.

"It is a halfling, Gil-Galad," another voice spoke. "One of the Periannath."

"Gil-Galad?" Pippin repeated. Then, remembering the verse Sam had recited on Weathertop, murmured,

"Gil-galad was an Elven-king.  
Of him the harpers sadly sing:  
The last whose realm was fair and free  
Between the Mountains and the Sea."

"You know something of our history, Pippin the Halfling?" The second voice spoke again. "Do you also know of my song? The song of Elendil?"

"I know of your history," Pippin said. "But I do not remember a song."

The second voice, the voice of Elendil, began a sweet refrain, gentle, yet sad:

"Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth  
Elendil came to prove his worth,  
At Annúminas he did abide  
With Gil-Galad at his side."

"On either hand there rode a son  
Isildur and Anárion;  
Carrying with them over the sea,  
Seven stones and one white tree."

"It sounds familiar," Pippin said as Elendil did not seem inclined to sing more. "The last part about seven stones and the white tree. Is there more?"

"Of course," Gil-Galad spoke now. "But it is a long lay and we will grow weary. Tell us why you are here, Pippin the Halfling."

"I'm not sure where _'here'_ is," Pippin admitted. "I think perhaps I can see the Over-heaven and the Sundering Seas but I am not sure what they should look like anyway."

"Then look carefully," Gil-Galad told him. "I will guide your eyes for a moment."

Pippin squeezed his eyes shut and then, opening them again, gazed long and hard into the distance and gradually the scene before him changed. The grey mist was turning to silver, as if it was made of glass, and the sun was no longer setting, but rising and beneath it, Pippin beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"What the fug are you doing here?" Smagnu, realising he had not eaten in what seemed like an age, had followed Grutfley to the mess tent to see what, if anything, was on offer.

"Well thass a nice greeting I must say!" Grubbus, had managed to acquire a bowl of stew and a small portion of bread.

"Seems to me every orc in Barad-dûr is going to end up here," Majdi, was sticking close to Smagnu, as everyone seemed to know the Uruk. "You're the gaoler aren't you? Or were, I should say."

"Yeah, that's Grubbus," Smagnu said, and by way of introduction added, "called that, 'cause his prisoners always said, 'with him it's grub first and us second!' Ha!"

"'Ere there's no call to 'ave a go," Grubbus mumbled through a mouthful of stew. "I allus looked after my prisoners proper-like. I looked after your little Pips all right din't I?"

"Apart from nearly letting 'em top theirselves!" Smagnu growled.

"That 'tweren't my fault!" Grubbus protested. "And I just saved one of 'em meself right now. Risked me own life and limb to get 'im out o' the Tower afore it collapsed!"

"Really? That don't sound much like you," Smagnu narrowed his yellow eyes suspiciously. "More like saved your own skin and got one to help you. They're very clever, are Little Pips!"

"Wouldn't argue with that," Grubbus conceded. "An' I allus done right by 'em, you can't deny it!"

"No, it's that fugging Wizard what needs sorting out!" Smagnu was obviously in a foul temper. "He's gone and got my Little Pip killed and my young Bloggin, one of my best lads as I ever had!"

"Gandalf did explain," Majdi winced as he intervened with the angry Uruk. "Bloggin gave his life to save everyone. He battled the Dark Lord himself and overcame him – he died a hero."

"Well he'd no right to set a little 'un like Bloggin against Him!" Smagnu turned on Majdi with a growl, his anger almost boiling over. "What's a powerful Wizard like him doing using Little Pips and weak snaga orcs to fight his battles?"

"It is not as simple as that," Legolas's voice made the group turn in surprise. "Sometimes the greatest among us have to turn to the seemingly small and weak for help. Bloggin proved a strength that surpassed all expectations and..." Legolas caught hold of Smagnu's shoulder and looked him squarely in the eye. "Gandalf truly tried to save Bloggin, even though he knew his death would win this war and bring Sauron to his end!"

"It stinks!" Smagnu's temper was not abating. "How come all you grand and powerful lords sit around on yer arses while the little ones get sent to fight a demon that even scares the shit out of an Uruk like me? It's not like they didn't end up dead!"

"There was a reason," Legolas sighed. "And I will make you understand in time, but right now I need you to get that glass ball that you took from the Tower."

"What?" Smagnu was thrown off balance, almost forgetting to be angry. "That thing, it was useless! I was gonna sell it, but it's no more'n a bloody paperweight – it don't do nothing!"

"It does if you know how to use it," Legolas said quietly.

"So you know that do you?" Smagnu said with a sneer.

"No," Legolas admitted. "But I know a man who does."

-TBC-

**Notes:**

Hi all

I'm back from my hols and thank you reviewers for wishing me (and Marigold) a good one – it worked!

**FantasyFan** – I read your reviews in Rome in between cruises (we did two) and they were definitely a highlight of the holiday!

**Pip4** - What are you glad I told you? How Mummy orcs and Daddy orcs... no probably not – I'm guessing it was the spoiler? I knew I had to put that in or get lynched!

**Joban** – Sorry, I did! But I'm back again now – so please forgive me.

**Pippinfan** – Now would I do that? Would I? Well we'll see...

**ebbingnight** – Couldn't leave Merry out there alone – but it was tricksy!

Once again, thank you to all readers and especially to reviewers. Normal service is now resumed.

**Llinos**


	69. A Vicious Circle

**A Vicious Circle**  
**Chapter 160/69**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"The palantíri cannot be destroyed," Gandalf explained. "But this one would almost certainly have been lost beneath the ruins of Barad-dûr."

"Yes," Legolas agreed, "we have our friend Smagnu to thank for saving it. Although I doubt he knew what it was when he took it."

"Where is he?" Merry asked. "I've been so caught up in worrying about Pippin – I should have thanked him. I owe him so much."

"He is attempting to get Sniggin to eat something," Legolas shook his head sadly. "The poor little creature refuses all comfort. I never knew orcs could have such deep feelings."

"Poor Sniggin," Merry felt a wave of empathy wash over him. "Bloggin was his twin brother. It must be dreadful for him."

"Let us at least see if we can do anything for Pippin," Aragorn began as he arrived. "Merry, you must understand that I don't know if there is any chance at all and, even though Sauron is gone, we do not know what kind of evil he may have left behind in this Seeing Stone. I am willing to show you and Legolas the way to use it, but it is not without danger!"

"We should waste no more time," Legolas did not even wait for Merry's response; he knew what it would be.

"Very well," Aragorn took a second palantír, the Orthanc Stone that Pippin had originally looked into when forced by Saruman, and placed it beside the Ithil Stone. "I have already looked into the Orthanc Stone, but I found no trace of anything there, not since Barad-dûr was destroyed."

"However," Gandalf added, "it is quite possible that Pippin or at least his spirit or essence, whatever makes Pippin who he is, was somehow confined by Sauron within the Ithil Stone, the palantír that He controlled in the Dark Tower. We believe the best chance of breaking that spell and to find him is for you, Merry to call him."

"But you should not go alone," Aragorn said gravely. "And if you and Legolas use your mindlink as well, it is almost certain you will stand a greater chance of success."

"What must we do?" Merry had barely registered the prospect of danger. "We need to find him before it is too late!"

"I suggest that Legolas looks into the Orthanc Stone," Aragorn indicated the translucent blue orb. "While Merry uses the Ithil Stone, since that is where I believe Pippin may be trapped. If you also link your minds at the same time it will hopefully create a more powerful conduit."

"So, like this?" Merry placed both hands on the glass orb and began to gaze into its depths. Legolas touched Merry lightly on the hands and then duplicated the hobbit's stance with the Orthanc Stone.

"Yes," Aragorn confirmed. "Gandalf and I will not speak again unless we sense danger. You must throw all your concentration into the stone and each other."

The Ranger and Wizard watched solemnly as the two fair heads bent in earnest concentration over the mystic elven stones.

_'Merry?'_

_'legolas, i at here'_

_'Can you see anything?'_

_'not'_

_'Look harder, I can see you.'_

_'ohh! yes can see now. it... it seem stranger at you...'_

_'I understand what you mean. You look taller and somehow more powerful!'_

_'feel most strong and legolas, you are more and more fair look at than most elf i see'd'_

_'Can you reach out and touch my hand?'_

"There!" Merry grasped Legolas's hand. It felt corporeal, as if in the real world. "We need to look for Pippin now."

"Merry?" Legolas blinked in surprise. "You are speaking in Westron and I can hear you. I think the palantír is enhancing our mindlink somehow."

"Well, that might help us to find Pippin," Merry gazed around him. To the east he could see the shrouded tops of the Misty Mountains and below him in the south west was Bree.

Below the town he could make out the rushing Brandywine River. He gazed west and there were the Blue Mountains and, below the imposing range, he could glimpse the Tower Hills.

"I think we are in the hills of Fornost," Legolas said. "I came here once with Aragorn. I wonder what brought us here."

"Pippin was here," Merry's tone carried no doubt. "But then... then he was on a ship! It was sinking."

"That could be in the Bay of Forochel," Legolas searched his memory. "Aragorn told me the story. It is where King Arvedui was lost. He and his men fled to the ice bay of Forochel when his Kingdom was destroyed by the Witch-King of Angmar. The Ice-Men, the Lossoth, took pity on them and helped them. But Arvedui boarded his ship, against their advice. The ship was crushed by the ice and he and his men were drowned and with them were lost the palantíri of the North, both the Stones of Amon Sûl and Annúminas."

"That explains why the palantíri have brought us here," Merry decided. "But where is Pippin now? He is not here any longer, I can tell."

"Let us see if we can move towards the bay," Legolas clasped Merry's hand more tightly and took a step.

Suddenly all around them was chaos. The icy wind was lashing the ship's rigging and the deck pitched perilously beneath their feet. Men were shouting and crying out for help. A ghostly white figure came towards them, floating above the lashing waves. As it neared, the figure spoke. "What do you seek here?"

"Am I addressing His Royal Highness, King Arvedui?" Legolas bowed low as he spoke. "We seek a halfling, one of the Periannath. His name is Peregrin Took."

"But known as Pippin," Merry added.

"He came," King Arvedui told them. "He was confused, but he is gone now, I know not where."

"Did he say anything?" Merry persisted. Then after a nudge from Legolas, added, "Your Majesty, anything that might help us find him?"

"He believed he was dead," said Arvedui. "But he also knew that he was at the mercy, such as that might be, of Sauron the Evil."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin was struggling. Each step he took was as if he were wading through melted tar. The sun beat down upon him and his throat was so dry it felt as if he had been eating toast spread with barbed wire instead of butter. On his back he carried an oversized pack, although what was in it he could not say for certain just that it weighed heavier than any burden he had ever known. In the far, far distance he could see a speck of green; an island at the end of this eternal straight road. But no matter how many painful steps he trod, he never seemed to get any closer.

Inch by agonising inch he crept forward until gradually his feet stopped moving and he sank down on to the hot melted road, too exhausted and too dispirited to go any further. He tried to shift the burden off his shoulders, but it refused to move, his arms would not slide through the straps that held it in place.

"Oh Merry, Merry!" Pippin finally gave a little sob, "I don't know where I am or what I'm supposed to do. I know I've been bad in my time, but I never thought dying would be like this." Speaking out loud to his beloved cousin allowed his mind to wander where he had tried not to go. What had happened to Merry? He could not be dead, Pippin was sure. If Merry had died he would be here – nothing would have kept him from coming to Pippin and taking half of his oppressive load, drying his salt tears and encouraging him to walk just a little further. "If I'd known, perhaps I would have behaved better. But at least you lived Merry, even though it hurts not to have you, hurts more than words can say, I'm still glad you are not with me. That would be the worst wound of all, to see you suffer for all the bad things I did."

Pippin slowly and painfully dragged himself back up onto his feet, readjusted the pack, as well as he could and started off once more. But thoughts of Merry would not abate and the absence of his beloved cousin grew like a tight and painful knot in his belly. "A walking song," he sniffed and scrubbed at his tears with his sleeve. "That's what Merry would have said." Tentatively he began to sing:

"Home is behind...  
Who knows what's ahead?  
But only one sad path to tread  
Through sunlight  
In the blinding heat  
Until there's no skin on my feet  
The sun blazes  
And turns blood red  
All hope is fled  
And I am dead..."

Bone weary now, he felt his legs sink beneath him and, still no closer to his destination, began to crawl on hands and knees, the oppressive burden biting into his back, his eyes squinted shut against the relentless sun.

Suddenly, he felt the weight lift. The straps seemed to melt away and two strong arms lifted and cradled him. A gentle breeze blew about the tall, sturdy being as he carried Pippin off the road and into a cool glade of swaying beech trees. A bright stream chuckled its way through the dell, skittering its brilliant droplets over shining stones. He set Pippin down on the green mossy bank of the rivulet and produced from somewhere a silver goblet which he dipped into the icy water.

"Here," he offered the cup to the parched hobbit. "You must be so thirsty!"

Pippin took the proffered drink eagerly and drank and drank; the cup seemed to be bottomless. Eventually, his thirst slaked, he tried to look up at his benefactor, his eyes still blurred from the scorching sunlight. Whoever this was he was much kinder than anyone he had met in this forsaken place so far. It had to be Merry! Merry would make himself tall and strong in this strange afterlife – because Merry was brave and strong! "Thank goodness," he began. "I knew you would come! I thought..."

"Oh my!" Pippin's vision finally cleared, "Boromir!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Is this Minas Tirith?" Merry was actually more familiar with the outside of the stronghold than its streets, most of the time he had spent within the White City he had been confined to bed.

"It is the ghost of Minas Tirith," Legolas said softly. "An image of what it once was. See how it fades and changes all the time. Why do you think Pippin came here?"

"I can't tell," Merry blinked and squinted as the view before him oscillated with increasing rapidity. "But I know he did."

"Wretches! Why do you come to taunt me?"

"We do not come to taunt, Lord Denethor," although Legolas could see no one, he knew the voice well enough. "We seek the perian, the halfling that you... that you..." For once Legolas was lost for words. He remembered that Denethor had tried to immolate Pippin on his own pyre, perhaps not a good thing to remind him of now. "We look for Peregrin, son of Paladin, the halfling that was in your service."

"Dead and gone! Dead and gone!"

"Was he here?" Merry asked.

"Dead and gone! Dead and gone!"

"I think gone, but not necessarily dead." Merry answered his own question as Denethor's voice did not seem to be addressing them. "That way," Merry pointed towards the Anduin, winding across the broad plane of the Pelennor Fields.

"Osgiliath," Legolas grasped Merry's hand as they started forward together. "This is beginning to make sense."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"How did I die, Boromir?" Pippin whispered the question as if afraid to hear the answer. "Only it's all so confusing."

"I really do not know," Boromir sat down next to the exhausted hobbit. "I couldn't see you – I lost you."

"You lost me?" Pippin frowned in puzzlement. "How do you mean?"

"I have been watching you," Boromir said. "Do you remember when Merry fell with the Witch King into the abyss?

"Yes, I wouldn't forget that!" Pippin shuddered at the memory. "You brought him back though. Of course I remember. You carried him through the clouds and gave him to Gandalf and then you showed him where the Morgul blade piece was in Merry's chest. That was awesome Boromir! It meant that Gandalf could get the fragment out and Merry got better."

"I hoped it would help to repair the ills that had befallen you and Merry because of my failure," Boromir brushed the stray curl off Pippin's forrid. "I know you cried for me when I was slain, but my grief was great too, possibly greater, because I had deserted you!"

"Oh Boromir!" Pippin took hold of the man's hand. "You did all that you could. It was our fault that you were left trying to defend us against so many! Merry and I should not have put you in such danger!"

"Dear, sweet Pippin!" Boromir broke into the smile that the hobbit remembered so well. "Always ready to be blamed, but, believe me, my path has turned out to be easier than the one you and Merry have trodden."

"So have you still been watching us?" Pippin's eyes opened wide with surprise. "All this time?"

"I've watched you since the day I died," Boromir nodded his head slowly. "But I do not know what happened to you. You were taken to Sauron and I was most afraid for you. I did not think you would survive that again."

"You saw me there before?"

"Yes, but there was nothing I could do to help." Boromir explained. "You were still in the living world. But the last time, I saw you take the narcotic. I wasn't sure that you had not killed yourself with it and I was waiting for you, just in case. But then you just vanished!"

"I vanished?" Pippin furrowed his brow trying to remember. "That doesn't sound like the sort of thing I would do."

"No," Boromir smiled. "Perhaps not. But you disappeared from **_my_** view."

"So what happened then?" Pippin asked quietly. "Merry and the others, Frodo and Sam, did you see what became of them?"

"Yes, they all survived," Boromir said reassuringly. "And I can tell you that Sauron's ring was destroyed. But there was one strange thing... I hardly know what to make of it."

"Good or bad?" Pippin asked cautiously. "Only if it's bad perhaps you shouldn't tell me."

"I'm not sure of that either," said Boromir. "I thought I saw you again, but you were helping Sauron and you were walking and talking, quite normally. Only I realised that something was not at all right as I know you would not have willingly helped the enemy and you haven't been talking _'normally'_ for some time in the real world. Fortunately, the others realised that too. It was your body Pippin, but you were not actually there, if you see what I mean."

"Yes," Pippin was thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure if that's good or bad either. It's horrible to think of me working with Sauron, but at least my body is still in one piece. It was in one piece wasn't it?"

"Yes," Boromir reassured him, "but you have been away from it for a long time. I think a whole day on earth must have passed from when you disappeared and I eventually saw you toiling along the Straight Road. Then I realised that you were not in the mortal world and that I could come and help you."

"What do we do now?" Pippin decided not to dwell on the possibilities. "Should we continue along the road?"

"I do not think that you chose that path for yourself," Boromir suggested. "You weren't making any progress. I suspect you could have walked along it forever and not got anywhere."

"No," Pippin agreed, "it wasn't my idea. Someone else showed me that way, but perhaps they just made a mistake. So should we stay here and wait for Merry?"

"I'm not sure that would be the best plan," Boromir smiled inwardly at Pippin's certainty that his cousin would come. "Maybe we should look for some help."

"How will we do that?" Pippin stood up and looked around. All he could see was the little copse they were sitting in. Beyond the encircling trees he could see nothing at all. "Where do we go?"

"Apart from watching you and Merry," Boromir stood up too and offered Pippin his hand. "There is only one place I have found that I can reach, so I suggest we go there."

"Is it far?" Pippin, placing his small hand in the man's considerably larger one, was suddenly reminded of the long march from Rivendell when he had asked Boromir that question many times. "Where are we going?"

"It's not far," Boromir assured him as he had also done many times before. "We are going to The Halls of Mandos – the place where all who are dead wait."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"It's amazing!" Merry found himself trying to count the stars; he had that kind of mind. "How..."

"Do not try to count them," Legolas's gentle rebuke reminded Merry that his thoughts were not exactly private at the moment. Of course Legolas would never pry where he was not wanted, but the compulsion to quantify things was often an involuntary response that Merry had probably inherited from his Grandfather.

"What is this place?" Merry slowly turned around gazing up at the immense star laden dome.

"This is Osgiliath," Legolas explained. "This is the great dome that lay in the heart of the ancient Gondorian capital. Osgiliath means Fortress of Stars."

"I thought Minas Tirith was the chief city of Gondor," Merry wobbled as he grew dizzy with turning. "I thought Osgiliath was in ruins."

"Indeed," Legolas steadied the hobbit and stopped the spinning. "In our time that is true. But this is Osgiliath as it was. It would seem that Pippin is not only trapped in the palantír, but is travelling around between the other palantíri."

"So is the palantír still here?" Merry asked. "In our time I mean."

"No," Legolas explained. "The greatest of the Seeing-stones was also the first to be lost. During the early reign of Eldacar, a rebellion arose that came to be known as the Kin-strife. During this civil war, the city of Osgiliath was besieged and burned by the rebels, and the Stone was lost in the waters of the River Anduin."

"There were seven stones all together, weren't there?" Merry had found out about the palantíri of Middle-earth after their encounter with Saruman. "Do you think he will travel to them all?"

"The Ithil-stone and the Orthanc-stone are the palantíri that we are using," Legolas obviously knew his history well. "The Stone of Amon Sûl and the Stone of Annúminas were lost together in the Bay of Forochel."

"So that was the first stop we made?" Merry was counting them on his fingers. "That's four. Then there was the palantír of Minas Tirith."

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "The Anor-stone, and now we are at the Master Stone in Osgiliath. That leaves just one more, the Stone of Elendil. It abides in the Tower of Elostirion and, unlike the others, it cannot be used to communicate with other palantíri or to observe events in Middle-earth. It was set to gaze westward across the Great Sea so that Elendil and his Heirs could see to the Undying Lands as far as the haven of Avallónë on Tol Eressëa."

"So do you think that's where Pippin is now?" Merry clutched Legolas's hand as the dome began to crack and the sounds of battle grew around them. "It seems to be getting rather dangerous around here."

"I doubt he would be allowed to go to the Undying Lands," Legolas frowned in thought. "Perhaps he will just return to the first Stone. Maybe it is his fate to travel endlessly in circles around the palantíri. I am not sure we are ever going to find him."

"Oh, I'll find him," Merry stuck his determined chin out. "If I have to chase him around the whole of Middle-earth and even to the Undying Lands – I will find him!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Um... Are we supposed to knock?" Pippin looked up at Boromir as they stood before the tall gilded gates, a puzzled frown on his face. "Nothing seems to be happening. Do they know we're here?"

"I don't know," Boromir admitted. "I usually just go straight inside. I have never encountered closed doors here before."

"Well, I'm going to knock," Pippin decided. "This may be eternity, but I haven't got forever!" Pippin reached up and pounded his small fist upon one of the great doors, it made no sound and he soon became exhausted with the effort.

"Perhaps if I try," Boromir stepped forward and pushed against the closed door and it swung open easily. He strode through the entrance, but as he did so Pippin immediately vanished from his sight. He turned and walked back through the open doors and there was the hobbit, looking baffled and perplexed.

"Where did you go?" Pippin asked. "One minute you were here and then you vanished."

"I went inside," said Boromir. "I pushed the door open and just walked in. But you obviously couldn't see that. I'm not sure why, but they don't seem to want you!"

"What do I do now?" Pippin sank wearily down to sit on the ground. "I don't know where to go or who to ask. I don't even know if I'm dead or alive!"

"I will go in and ask for you," Boromir suggested. "There must be someone who can help you."

"Oh no, please don't!" Pippin grabbed hold of Boromir's coat. "Please don't leave me! What if you never return?" But the material melted away in his hand as Boromir stepped through the doors again and once more the hobbit was alone. He sank down against the austere doors and felt tears begin to well up, "Oh Boromir, please come back," Pippin felt a weary sadness overtake him to be suddenly bereft of company and isolated once more. "Please don't leave me... pleeeasse!"

"**Silence**!"

"Wh...aat? Who are..."

"Peregrin, son of Paladin, you may not enter here for your situation and condition are unclear."

"But...but that's why I need help!" Pippin whispered fearfully, for the voice was intimidating, if not actually terrifying. "I don't know if I'm dead or alive or what I should do."

"This is known to me," the voice continued. "You will be given an audience and your petition will be considered but for now you must wait."

"Thank you, sir. Can you tell me..." But before Pippin could ask his question the doors opened; revealing beyond them a murky void. Pippin gasped in horror but was inextricably drawn into the emptiness; spinning and falling until he felt quite sick.

It seemed as if the downward spiral would never end, but eventually he landed with a sickening thud on a cold stone floor. He could still see nothing but a thick grey fog, but sensed that he was confined in a small cell. But more worrying than the obscuring shadows was the additional sense that he was not alone. He could hear someone or something quite close to him and whoever or whatever it was, was making a low, ominous growling noise.

"Hello," Pippin ventured in a trembling staccato, "who's there?"

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

Many thanks to faithful readers and, as always, a million and one thanks to reviewers!

GW tells me that she is not getting update alerts and I'm wondering if it might be that, either they go into the junk folder - so need to tell your junk folder that it's not junk (although some might argue otherwise!) or perhaps you have to renew your subscription from time to time - just a thought.

**GW** – your reviews as always spot on. Mixing humour with sadness or horror is an idea I stole from Shakespeare – after all, if you're going to steal, steal from the best!

**Pip4** – Glad you liked the Smag/Leggie bit. I thought hard about how a reformed Uruk might act in this situation and I figured he ain't gonna be weeping into his tea – but he might get fugging angry!

**Pippinfan** – it's gratifying to know that Recap is more interesting than algebra, because I always thought (finding it a total mystery) algebra might be quite interesting – but I'll take your word for it. I'm sorry to keep you in suspenders, but if it helps (I guess this isn't a spoiler) the story concludes at chapter 169/78 – so now you know. Of course there will still be the epilogue – actually there could be two epilogues because the first one keeps growing.

**Joban** – you leave me speechless (no mean feat I can tell you) – you really are too, too kind – but please keep it up!

Till next time,  
Yours sincerely,

**Llinos**


	70. A Piece of Pippin's Mind

**A Piece of Pippin's Mind  
Chapter 161/70**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Well Merry! Thank goodness I have found you!"

Merry's eyes strained to discern the owner of the voice. He and Legolas had followed Pippin along the Straight Road until the trail had abruptly stopped and they had stepped down into a woodland grove. There, Merry had needed to concentrate harder than ever but eventually a white fog had descended and he knew they were getting closer. When finally the mist cleared he could see clearly who spoke. "Boromir! How wonderful to see you again. Have you found Pippin?"

"Yes," Boromir confirmed. "That is I found him, but I've lost him again."

"You lost him?" Legolas could now see Boromir too. "How did you do that?"

"I brought him here, to the Halls of Mandos," Boromir explained. "I could not think what else to do. But the Lord Námo would not let him enter as he said his circumstances were unclear and he must plead his case."

"Plead his case?" Merry was still insistent. "But he's not dead – I know he isn't."

"Well, he was here, and this is where the dead come, and I was able to talk to him..." Boromir began, then realised the incongruity of his reasoning. "Oh... but so are you and Legolas. How is that possible? You are not dead, are you?"

"We followed Pippin," Merry said simply, "through the palantíri. Sauron somehow trapped Pippin inside his palantír, although we do not believe that he killed him, just imprisoned him."

"It has enabled us to walk many strange paths," Legolas added. "We have met with various people who are no longer living and all linked in some way to one of the seven palantíri, but all the time following Pippin's trail until it led us here – to you."

"But I don't understand," Merry persisted. "How will Pippin plead his case? Who does he have to plead it to? What is his case anyway? And, more to the point, where is he now?"

"As these are the Halls of the Dead," Boromir said, "I presume Pippin must argue that he is not of their number in order to be returned to his body. And I suppose the decision is made by the Lord Námo himself. As to where Pippin is now, I do not know, but I would guess he has been taken to a secure place to await judgement."

"Judgement?" Merry was horrified. "He shouldn't be put on trial; he hasn't done anything wrong!"

"You cannot be certain of that Merry," Legolas said without a trace of humour. "But I do not think the Lord Námo believes him to be a felon. He just wishes to establish whether or not Pippin is dead."

"What do you mean?" said Merry. "Of course Pippin's not dead! Who is this Lord Námo anyway?"

"Námo the Judge dwells in Mandos which is westward in Valinor," Legolas began to recite, his eyes growing clouded and distant as he spoke, as one in a trance will recant a lesson long learned. "He is the Keeper of the Houses of the Dead, and the Summoner of the spirits of the slain. He forgets nothing; and he knows all things that shall be, save only those that lie still in the freedom of Ilúvatar. He is the Doomsman of the Valar; but he pronounces his dooms and his judgements only at the bidding of Manwë.

"Vairë the Weaver is his spouse; she weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs, and the Halls of Mandos, that ever widen as the ages pass, are clothed with them."

"But isn't that just for elves?" Merry began once Legolas had seemed to finish. "I didn't think it applied to hobbits."

"Men too can be summoned to the Halls of Mandos," said Boromir, "that is, those, like me, who were slain in battle and have left unfinished business. So may it be for hobbits?"

"So if we are in these Halls," Merry began tentatively, "does that mean we have all passed on? What about Pippin? If he's gone inside, I suppose that's it? Does anyone ever come back from the Halls?"

"It has been known," Legolas said. "Lúthien sang a song of such extraordinary power and beauty that it moved even the implacable heart of Mandos himself. So she was granted a unique fate, to become mortal like her true love Beren and together they returned to Middle-earth where they dwelt for a time in happiness on the green island of Tol Galen in the River Adurant."

"But remember," Boromir added, "Pippin has not actually been allowed inside the Halls, no more have you or Legolas. So it is not at all certain that he or you or Legolas are in fact dead."

"That is why," Legolas said, "Pippin's case will have to be judged by the Lord Námo."

"Then do you think I will be allowed to speak for him," Merry said immediately. "I mean I can't sing a song, like that Lúthien you told us about, but I can tell them anything they need to know about Pippin!"

"So be it Meriadoc, son of Saradoc!" The voice made Merry start with shock and, as he turned, he saw that Legolas and Boromir were bowing their heads in reverence. "But who will speak for you?"

A figure clad in golden, shimmering robes stood in the open doorway, in appearance a man, although beardless like an elf. He was tall and stately and his expression was stern but wise and reminded Merry of Gandalf or, the hobbit thought, as Gandalf might have looked as a young man, if he had ever been such.

"My Lord," Merry bowed low with a flourish. "I am but a plain and simple hobbit and no weaver of words. I proposed only to speak the truth, which, for Peregrin Took, will be a truly excellent advocate. As to who will speak for me, I cannot say, for my only evidence is a looking glass and mirrors have been known to lie!"

"No weaver of words?" The Lord Námo (for it was he) actually smiled. "Already you would seem to stray from the path of truthfulness. Nevertheless, your testimony must stand or fail on its own merit, for you have claimed the right to speak for your kin, so shall you both be judged."

"Then may I see Pippin now?" Merry took a deep breath. "Only Legolas and I have been following him for so long and I think he might be running out of time. I know his body was still living, but maybe if he doesn't get back soon it will be too late!"

"Time is not measured in this realm as it is in yours," Námo explained. "You and Legolas, son of Thranduil, may not enter these Halls, for you are still of the living and only here within the spirit of your minds. Peregrin, son of Paladin is being kept within the drifting void of shade."

"But where is that?" Merry persisted. "It sounds horrible."

"It is for his own protection," Námo replied. "Any spirit that wanders without purpose or direction is held within the confines of the drifting void until their condition and situation can be resolved."

"But what if it's never resolved?" Merry asked. He was anxious of course to be sure he knew all the facts with Pippin's life at stake. "Or if the wrong decision is made?"

"The wrong decision is never made," Námo stated firmly. "As to unresolved cases, they will remain within the drifting void until the end of time, but that will not happen to Peregrin. A decision will be made." The Lord could see that the Periannath was about to ask another question. "I will answer no more issues, Meriadoc, son of Saradoc. I suggest you concentrate your energies on preparing your advocacy of Peregrin, before his situation is called to account."

And with that he was gone. Merry turned to Legolas and Boromir, a look of panic on his face. "What have I done?

"It would seem, Merry," Legolas gave the hobbit an encouraging smile, "that you have offered to argue Pippin's case before the Lord Námo, who is second in might only to the High Lord Manwë, who in turn answers only to Ilúvatar himself! But try not to worry; I am sure you will think of what to say!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Who are you?" Pippin was relieved that the low growling had subsided into a quiet, trembling sob, although now he was more concerned for whoever seemed so upset and, as a secondary thought, how bad was the place he was in that it made someone weep so?

"Can you hear me? I can't quite see you." Pippin reached out with his hands to try to feel whoever was there. "Why are you crying? What's the matter? Can I help?"

_"Spling!"_

"Eroo a'Reroo!" Pippin was surprised but pleased. "Is that you? Were you crying?"

_"Narg!"_ Eroo began to coalesce in front of Pippin. _"Go look and look! It crying other ones!"_

Pippin began to walk forward, his arms outstretched, "I know you're there, Eroo said you were. Please let me see you. Would you like to talk to me?"

_"It go down and down!"_ Eroo instructed. _"It go like sit far down in floor!"_

"Ah yes," Pippin sank to his knees and flailed around, moving on all fours towards the sound. Finally his fingertips made contact with something, it had to be a something - no being could be that knobbly!

_"Yeess It must be knobbly-bobbly!"_ Eroo said in a whisper, as if not to offend the something. _"It be an orcsies!"_

"An orcsies? I mean, an orc!" Pippin withdrew his hand, reacting to an automatic revulsion, and then remembered a few orcs of which he was actually quite fond. "Hello, Mr Orc? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Snnniffff! Not crying, Is'e got a bad cold in me 'ead!" The voice was very familiar. "An' that ain't the worse fing wot I'se ever 'ad in me 'ead, I can tell yer!"

"Bloggin? Is that you?" Pippin was starting to make out the whole form now and there was no mistaking Smagnude's little helper. "Bloggin! It's me, Little Pip! What are you doing here? It's wonderful to see you, but I hope you're not dead!"

"Mr Little Pip?" Bloggin had always been in awe of Pippin, mostly because his Captain seemed to hold him in high regard and, as far as Bloggin was concerned, his Captain Smagnu was the wisest, cleverest and probably handsomest orc he had ever known. "I dursent know what I'se doing here. I'se for certainly dead but thass all I knows!"

_"Bleek! Talk, sit,"_ suggested Eroo.

"Come and sit here with me," Pippin took Bloggin's paw and led him to a comfortable looking sofa. "Eroo has kindly made us a place to relax, he understands about things like that." The bewildered orc climbed on to the mysterious piece of ethereal furniture and squirmed around, like orcs and dogs will, until he had made himself a secure spot, nestling in the cushions next to the hobbit. "Now then," Pippin began, "tell me everything that happened."

"What? All of everything?"

"Yes," Pippin nodded encouragingly. "From how you came to die to how you got here."

"Well," Bloggin began, "it all started the day I wuz borned..."

"Erm," Pippin interrupted. "I think we can start a little further on than that. How about..."

_"Spleek!"_ Eroo sounded either agitated or excited; it was sometimes hard to tell which. _"Ring gulping! From ring gulping down and down!"_

"What?" Even Pippin had trouble understanding this, although of course Bloggin could not actually hear or see Eroo in any case. That Little Pip seemed to be talking to himself was not for him to question. "From when he gulped down the ring? Is that right Bloggin? Did you swallow the ring?"

"Yers," Bloggin nodded his head miserably. "See, they had to keep it safe, an' I knows, cause me bruvver taught me, when someone's lookin' fer somefing what you don't want 'em to find, best fing is to swallow it, so thass what I did."

"And that's what killed you?" Pippin could not begin to imagine what the ring might do on the inside, it was bad enough outside.

"Not really," Bloggin considered this. "Not as such like, but see, it was all confustigating. When the big Lord Master turned up, He made hisself look just like your Wizard Lord, Mr Gandalf Sir, but I knewed it was wrong."

"You did?" Pippin was impressed. "I'm guessing that Sauron's magic would be pretty powerful, how could you tell?"

"Well," Bloggin was getting into his stride now. "You wuz wiv him for starters, only you wasn't, if you see what I mean."

"Actually, yes I do," Pippin nodded sagely. "That much Boromir told me. That Sauron was using my body, although I wasn't really in it at the time."

"But yer sounded wrong," Bloggin explained, and before Pippin could point out that his muddled speech was not in fact the way he usually spoke and was not the way he was speaking now, added, "and yer smellded wrong too!"

"Really?"

"Yers," Bloggin tapped his nose. "Some of we orcs got a really good way of smelling, better'n some dogs we have. Your Wizard smellded wrong too, and I been close to him a lot and could pick his trail up anywhere yer like!"

"But anyway," Bloggin continued. "Your Mr Fro Fro wasn't so sure at first, so he didn't chuck the ring in the fire river when he could. He thought it was you and your Wizard Lord Mr Gandalf Sir, but then, when he knew it weren't, it wuz too late. So he chucked the ring to me and I shoved it down me gullet!"

"Goodness!"

"Then things got more tricky," Bloggin was prone to understatement. "There was a bit of a fight and, well, the thing is the big Master Lord, he wuz definitely gonna win an' then all the bad fings in the world what makes all the folks suffer and so on, an' you and your friends and the Wizard Lord Mr Gandalf Sir, what wuz real kind to me, an' me bruvver, who always took right good care o' me, an' o' course, Cap'n Smagnu, they would all have to die an' that din't seem right, so I jumped in the fire!"

"You what!" This was probably the longest speech Pippin had ever heard Bloggin make, and certainly the most amazing. "You just threw yourself in the fire, ring and all?"

"Yers."

"You do realise what this means?" Pippin took hold of Bloggin's shoulders and turned him so he could look him straight in the eye. "You've defeated the most powerful and dreadful Demon in the whole of Middle-earth. You have done what many great and brave warriors have failed to do, and you did it by making the ultimate sacrifice of deliberately giving up your life. That's incredible Bloggin! You are a hero!"

"I dunno 'bout that," Bloggin grinned and punched Pippin playfully in the arm. Then his face drooped back into sadness, "I don't mind 'bout dying an' all, though I misses Sniggin sumfink awful, but it's just I dunno what I'm s'posed to do now."

"Supposed to do?" Pippin considered this for a moment. "Well you've come to the Halls of Mandos, and I think the person in charge should be able to tell you. What did he say?"

"Bugger off!"

"What, just that?" Pippin had almost laughed, but quickly realised that it was not really funny. "Did he say where to?"

"No," Bloggin said miserably. "Just told me to bugger orf, or words to that effect. See, I din't expect nuffink to happen when I died. Thass what orcs is told. We's told yer don't go nowhere, there ain't no overheavens for the likes of us, we just turn into dust an' thass it! I wouldn't a' minded that, but I dursent know where I'm s'posed to go, so I just sat on the doorstep and then they puts me in 'ere an 'ere's where I bin ever since."

_"Bleek speak, speak, you speak Mandossss!"_

"Yes Eroo!" Pippin took a deep breath and suddenly a feeling of strength driven by anger came over him, greater than he had ever felt before. It was as if all Merry's and Frodo's protectiveness over the years had suddenly coalesced in him, together with all the potency and confidence Eroo had ever given him, to make him as powerful as he needed to be in this situation. Everything became clear.

Poor Bloggin had been born an orc, through no fault of his own. As far as Pippin could tell, he had never done any harm to anyone, in fact, Eroo had flashed pictures through Pippin's mind showing a kaleidoscope of the sad creature's wretched life and how well he had coped with it. Then, when put to the test, he had given his all by sacrificing his life for the sake of others. No one had asked him to do it and he could have just run away from the whole situation, but he had stayed and shown bravery far in excess of many others, man, hobbit, dwarf, elf or orc, might have shown.

Pippin, with some help from Eroo, rightly guessed that, somehow, because of the bravery and selflessness he had shown, he had actually survived into the spirit world against all his expectations. But now, simply because he was an orc, he was being denied entry to that afterlife, as, presumably, all orcs were. Where did they usually go? Why were they offered no chance of redemption?

Smagnu, at least, and possibly Grutfley and the gaoler were not actually evil. No more so than any other living beings. They just did what they were born to do, and followed orders. But when the opportunity had arisen they had all actually shown compassion and mercy, admittedly to greater and lesser degrees, but nevertheless, they had made that choice.

So this was going to be his job and perhaps this had been his purpose all along. Perhaps this was why he had gone on the Quest, why he had fought and suffered and finally been cast into the palantír by Sauron.

Whatever the reason, Pippin knew, with blinding clarity that, regardless of what else he had to say to the Lord who had put him and Bloggin in here, whether he lived or died, if there was any justice to be had in this place, he had to find some for an insignificant little orc, who right now was shining in Pippin's mind like a bright silver star set in a dark blue-black sky. An unimportant little orc called Bloggin who had possibly just saved the whole of Middle-earth! "Yes Eroo," Pippin said again, "that is exactly what I plan to do, I shall speak to the great Lord in charge of the Halls of Mandos and I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!"

-**TBC-**

**Notes**:

Professor Tolkien is much, much cleverer than I am at working out when it is appropriate to use a capital letter! In LotR, sometimes the Ring is capitalised and sometimes not and sometimes important deities, and demigods etc. are capitalised (e.g. Sauron gets a "He" rather than "he"). However, in The Silmarillion this is not the case and as this story is about to meet characters from that work (don't panic – all your old favourites will still be there too) no one is going to get capitalised!

Oh and the Professor also likes to give people lots of names – I've tried to stick to just one or two but, in case you're not sure, the **Lord Námo** runs the **Halls of Mandos**, and sometimes gets called **Lord** **Mandos** too.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers!

**GW:** Aha! So you don't like elves – well I'm guessing you didn't like orcs much either before you read this! Thanks for the long reviews and for the advertising campaign too!

**Pippinfan:** You're probably still on pins, and likely to remain so for a while – sorry about that!

**ebbingnight:** Oh now steady on – I've got far too many miracles to handle at the mo! :D

**Pip4**: _"the practicality that you gave Merry changed the way his composure looked."_ I did? Well it's gratifying that you "**see**" it, if you know what I mean!

Thanks again for reviewing! Keep it up!

**Llinos**


	71. Woven In History

**Woven In History  
Chapter 162/71**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Do you think we should assist them?" Aragorn, seated opposite Legolas, glanced up from the palantír into which he had been gazing with the elf. "It would seem that Pippin might be delving into issues which are deeper than his knowledge."

"Or his wits," Gandalf nodded in agreement. He sat beside Merry on a pile of cushions, brought to ease the old wizard's elderly bones, with Pippin's lifeless body cradled in his arms. He too looked up briefly from the palantír into which Merry's mind was locked. "I did not fear so much for him when it was his own case that must be put before Mandos, for Pippin has caused no harm, except perhaps to Sauron, and that was naught but mild deception in a noble cause. But to challenge the wisdom of the Valar has only ever been attempted by a handful of supplicants throughout time and only one has ever succeeded."

"Please, what is happening?" As only Gandalf and Aragorn could discern what was occurring through the palantír, Frodo spoke for all the companions gathered anxiously in the tent. Sam had steadfastly remained at Frodo's side ever since arriving at the camp, and with equal constancy Dysgwr hovered over both the hobbits, concerned for their weak condition and many injuries. The healer also cast frequent and suspicious glances at Pippin, recumbent in the Wizard's arms and at Merry, his most elusive and difficult patient and one who had given, and still gave him, much cause for concern.

Gimli leaned forward on his axe at Frodo's question. Silent yet alert, his eyes rarely straying from his friend Legolas's unmoving form. Beside the dwarf, Éowyn sat with Faramir on one side and Sniggin crouched on the other. The Lady in her kindness, had coaxed the grieving orc to come to the tent to pay respects to _'Little Pip'_, as she thought it might ease his woe to confront the very real death of a loved one and to say goodbye. But what they found was an attempt to return Pippin to his body. Whether or not this would ease Sniggin's suffering or intensify it, Éowyn could not judge, but for better or worse he had begged to stay and see if Cap'n Smag's Little Pip could be brought back.

Smagnu stood just outside the tent, tall, proud and upright, as if at attention or as a self-appointed guard over the mysterious proceedings and next to him Grutfley and Grubbas squatted, playing a complicated but silent orc gambling game that involved much baring of teeth and vicious knuckle rapping. Grutfley was currently three hundred pence in debt, but, in spite of their respective winnings and losses, both orcs were watching and listening to the progress of the quest inside the tent and neither would bet on the outcome.

"Please Gandalf, what is happening?" Frodo repeated. "Has Pippin gone insane? Does he think he is Eärandil or some great lord from the past?"

"No," Gandalf looked down with affection at the inert form in his arms and, lifting Pippin up, placed a gentle kiss upon his brow. "Dear little Pippin, in his pity and naïveté, is attempting to save the whole of orc-kind, but I think we may have to stop him, or else he may well lose himself in the attempt."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"It is there my Lord, woven in history for all time and whether foul or fair, for good or ill, my webs do not lie." Vairë the Weaver smoothed her hand across the recently embroidered addition to her eternal labour.

"I doubt not the truth of it, my beloved," The Lord Mandos, who is more rightly called Námo, Mandos being but the name of his Halls, gazed upon the tale of the downfall of Gorthaur for a countless age before speaking once more.

"That Gorthaur, Melkor's servant who was named Sauron, was brought to naught We knew," Mandos said at length. "It was foretold that his demise would be wrought by Olórin and that he would be in turn aided by a creature small and weak."

"And so it has come to pass," Vairë bent her head once more to her task.

"But there was no prophesy that concerned an orc!" Mandos spoke sternly. "Is that part not woven in error?"

"No my Lord," Vairë looked up once more. "I bear testimony to history, I do not construct it. What I have woven is what occurred. How could it be otherwise?"

"Events can be changed," Mandos said. "A pebble falls here, when it should fall there; a bird sang when it should have been silent; a butterfly alights on this flower and not on that; many small occurrences can change greater events, sometimes for good and at times for ill."

"There was a moment," Vairë rose from her loom and began to walk back along her work, looking high and low, sometimes peering closely at some fine detail and smiling, sometimes standing back and roving her eyes back and forth over a multitude of pictures, trying to isolate the one event she was seeking. "I remember when it occurred. There was a jolt when a schism appeared and a small detail could have been altered that may have grown to a much greater change in the history of the War of the Ring."

"Then it is important that you find it," Mandos watched her carefully as she threaded her graceful way amongst the exquisitely woven webs. "For the fate of many may rest on the outcome and it may be that I have to consult with Manwë to pronounce the doom of those that have brought this about."

"Here," Vairë stopped by a part of the tapestry which was embroidered with rich green silks that appeared as verdant as the trees they represented. She pointed to a scar of black across the base of the green, surrounding two small points of green and yellow light. "The Periannath, Meriadoc, son of Saradoc and Peregrin, son of Paladin, here they were **_recaptured_** in Fangorn by the Uruk-hai. Perhaps this was not their fate and should not have happened, but it did, and many future events would then have altered."

"Indeed, it would seem to have wrought a vast change in the fortunes of many," Mandos decided. "It may well be that Eru Himself fashioned this; that it was not by chance and there may be in this event a greater purpose concealed. Now it remains for the Valar to determine if this is for good or ill and what was in Ilúvatar's heart when history foretold was forever altered."

"But surely you will not present the Periannath before the Valar?" Vairë asked. "For if they yet live, the Valar cannot permit them to return to Arda once they have set foot upon the Blessed Realm."

"Olórin I could summon," Mandos said. "For already has he journeyed back and forth, but now is not yet his time to return for good. Also I understand the earnest wish of the small perian and, although it may bring his own demise, willingly would he still bear witness in order to see justice done, for his stature is small but his heart is noble and true and, being so, more will he move the hearts and minds of the great and powerful. Therefore he shall be brought to Máhanaxar, to the Ring of Doom and, there shall his plea be heard and his fate decided."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You may not enter, but you may watch and listen," Mandos did not appear to be about to wait for an answer but Merry cried out quickly.

"But what about Pippin's case?" Merry had been frantically, with Legolas's help, formulating arguments in favour of Pippin's immediate return to his body. "I thought I was to speak for him?"

"You may yet be called to bear witness," Mandos said without turning, "but for now your kinsman must stand and plead alone, for the issue has changed and he has sought to challenge the wisdom of Eru."

"But he's not dead!" Merry tried once more. "Really! He's not!" But his frantic words fell impotently into the grey mist and withered uselessly against a wall of silence.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

**_'Legolas? LEGOLAS! DO YOU HEAR ME?'_**

_'Yes Gandalf, I hear you. Have you followed all that has occurred or should I explain?'_

**_'I have followed all, and now I think I must come there, for I do not think that young Peregrin should be alone in this debate._**

_'but they not go let you getting in gandalf! Big lord sayed he got go standing on he all-lon-elery.'_

**_'I heard what he said Meriadoc, but I shall at least come to where you are. I fear for Pippin and what he might say. He should not be interfering in the affairs of the Valar for they are subtle and quick to anger!'_**

"Gandalf speaks the truth Merry," Legolas said aloud. "Quickly, take my hands and open your mind to him. We must make a conduit so that he can come here as soon as possible. Pippin is going to need all the help he can get."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin was falling very fast. The grey mist had swallowed Bloggin up and then the fog had dissipated, leaving no trace of the room, the sofa, the little orc or Eroo, and Pippin had been left standing upon a silver cloud set in a sea of the purest azure, through which he promptly fell.

As he plummeted towards an expanse of green and gold forest far below he saw a leaf twirling around just beneath him, which seemed to be travelling towards him, caught on a thermal up-draught. Pippin could see from the serrated edges that it was an oak leaf, although it appeared to be rather too large. "Or," thought Pippin, "I've shrunk."

He landed on the leaf with a jolt and halted its upward journey. Now both he and the leaf were headed downwards, although at a much more sedate pace. Cautiously Pippin peered over the edge of the leaf, which was sailing earthwards like an indecisive feather on a windy day.

As he descended the sound of many voices came to Pippin's ears. There was a mixture of sweet dulcet mellifluous tones, overshadowed by powerful and stentorian speech as if great Elven Kings and Queens were conversing, only magnified a hundred times over. They seemed to be debating a matter of enormous import, but Pippin could not distinguish any of the words.

Gradually his leaf corkscrewed its way into a small moss-covered dell and came to rest. Pippin, peeping over the edge, could now see the owners of the voices, or at least he could see their feet. And immediately he could see that here were feet worthy of respect, elegant, sculpted feet, not the hard-padded, wool-covered trotters of your everyday hobbit!

Pippin climbed off the leaf and looked around. He had always thought that elves were unnaturally good-looking, but these people were beyond "unnatural". They were tall, tall as trees it seemed, and so beautiful it almost hurt. Pippin racked his brain for words to describe what he saw, but all he could manage was "splendid" and "magnificent" but that did not really do the job he thought.

No one paid him any attention, but then he was incredibly small at the moment, about the size of a mouse, he reckoned. Pippin had no idea why he had become so diminutive and fervently hoped there were no cats around. Perhaps he should ask?

"Erm... excuse me, I beg your pardon..." his voice was barely above a squeak against the background of talking above him. After a few futile attempts, Pippin gave up and sat down on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees, and tried to follow the conversations, although they seemed far above him both physically and mentally. But eventually the words started to coalesce in Pippin's head into discernible speech.

"Gorthaur the Cruel is utterly vanquished. He is passed away like a shadow of malice." This was a female voice, lilting with a soft timbre.

"So all prophesies are fulfilled and peace will settle upon Arda." A male spoke; a hearty sound, as if the owner would just as soon slap the listener's back and laugh uproariously. "Why then are we met here? It is done without our stir or hand."

"The foretelling was met," Pippin recognised the owner of this voice as the Lord of the Waiting Halls, Lord Mandos. "But events were fractured. There was an occurrence that was not foreseen and much may have been changed. This is what we must debate."

"But all things change," the male voice again, "by design or by chance. Prophesies are but portends of the future. Naught is writ or wrought in stone!"

"This is not denied, Tulkas," Mandos agreed. "And these changes may not hold significance for those who dwell on Arda, nor yet for Elvenkind or Mankind or for Aluë's people. But my Halls have been thrice visited by mortal beings for whom the doors would not open. Therefore their fates must be decided here."

"Are they brought forth?" A different male voice spoke. "Where are these presumptuous mortals – these trespassers upon their hour?"

"Two wait without the doors, Lord Oromë," Mandos replied. "A Silvan Elf and a Halfling, a perian. Another Halfling is brought before us here to plead his case."

"Where is it?" Oromë asked. "I see no supplicant."

"Look again with wider eyes impetuous brother," said a female voice. "He sits very still upon the sward and hides in the manner of the Quendi in the beginning of days."

"It is very small, are we sure it is real?" Oromë bent down, resting his hands upon his knees and peered at Pippin, who immediately jumped up and then made a low, obsequious bow. "It has manners at least," he said.

"Should not Mithrandir be summoned?" asked the woman. "For he understands these small creatures better than we."

"You speak truly My Lady Nessa, for he has long associated with the Periannath and his anxiety for this one is palpable," Mandos replied. "Mithrandir is coming even now. However, his path is strange, for he dwells yet within the circles of the world and must journey to us through the minds of the elf and the other perian."

"We have no need to wait for Olórin, who you name Mithrandir," Pippin looked up at the speaker and then looked quickly down at the ground with a shudder. The owner of the voice was beyond fair, so beautiful was his face that it pained the hobbit to look upon him. "Let us hear the perian now, for there is no deceit or mendacity within him and the Halls of Ilmarin grow cold and hollow while we are gone."

"The Lord Manwë has spoken," Mandos turned to Pippin and indicated where he should stand. "State your case Peregrin, son of Paladin."

Pippin stepped up onto the small mound that had been indicated, took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Erm... Thank you, I would like to..."

"Speak louder!" Tulkas's bellow almost knocked Pippin off the little mound. "I cannot hear you!"

"Patience, Tulkas," the Lady who spoke, Pippin could not see at all, for she was bathed in an aura of pure brilliant light. "He is very small in stature..." the white radiance moved towards Pippin and he felt himself warm and grow. Starlight seemed to scatter down upon him until he glowed with a silvery sheen. "...but his heart is immeasurably brave and it is meet and right that we should hearken to the pleas of the smallest to remember that we are all the children of Ilúvatar."

_'bleek! Elbereth is She!'_

Pippin gasped in awe! In spite of Eroo's sudden return, far from encouraging him to speak, he now felt more nervous than before! The Lady Elbereth! Surely she would not be here to listen to his case?

"I...I... that is..." Pippin stammered to a halt.

The Lady's shimmering silver swept over him again, leaving a trail of glittering starlight and her delighted laughter could be felt rather than heard. "What is this?" she asked, "This sprite that you call Eroo? No, do not answer Peregrin Tûk. Know only that you are blessed in the eyes of Ilúvatar and that what you have to say here is in accord with his desire."

"Well," Pippin now felt emboldened. The purity and love of the Lady had filled him with the need to speak up and be heard. That she saw and obviously understood Eroo a'Reroo did not surprise him, although he had the sudden thought of what Eroo, who Frodo and Merry had dismissed as his imaginary friend, might actually be? "I do not presume to plead for my small life, but I would dearly like to ask a question."

"He who stands in the Circle of Doom is not the inquisitor," Mandos declared. "You are here to state your case, not to interrogate the Valar!"

"What is your question Peregrin, son of Paladin?" Manwë actually sounded curious, although Pippin suspected he already knew what was in his heart, for these deities obviously possessed an intellect far above anything he had ever encountered. "Although Lord Mandos is correct, we will make an exception - you may ask your question."

"Thank you my Lord," Pippin bowed low once more and took a deep breath to summon up courage, just as Merry had taught him. "I wanted to ask, where do orcs go when they die?"

-**TBC-**

**Notes:**

Thanks to all readers and lollipops to all reviewers as well as thanks!

**Joban**: You claim to be no weaver of words – but I think you lie! You certainly weave an excellent (and v. flattering) review!

**GW**: In depth analysis – yummy! I always enjoy those! Personally I would always socialise with orcs over elves – after all you don't have to worry about how you look, your grammar or table manners and stuff!

**ebbingnight**: I know I've said this before but it might be worth repeating at this point. When I first discovered Pippin had an "imaginary friend" I inserted my daughter's own imaginary friend from when she was little. She told me at the time he was called, "Eroo a'Reroo". I just thought it was a funny name, I had no idea what he might turn out to be! Odd eh? Perhaps miracles do happen and we just don't notice them.

**Pip4:** (aka Guest): Well, Merry's offered and Pippin is determined – oh dear – wonder how that will work out?

**Pippinfan**: I confess I had to make several attempts to read the Silmarillion – kept falling asleep in chapter 2. However, my final incentive was to glean material to bring about what you are now reading – I hope it was worth it! LOL!

PS I read it in one fell swoop in a remote cottage in Scotland! Not much else to do there.

Cheers

Llinos


	72. The Real Eroo a'Reroo

**The Real Eroo a'Reroo**  
**Chapter 163/72**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

When Pippin asked his question _'where do orcs go when they die'_ he had half expected the answer to be complex and probably beyond his comprehension. He had not anticipated the response he got.

He was on his hands and knees, crawling through glutinous, blue-black slime. The stench of it was so disgusting it did not even touch his nose or mouth but rather, went straight to his stomach making him retch and heave, although there was nothing in his belly to vomit, not even bile. Instead there was a hollow ache that cried out with dire hunger, adding to the cacophony of pain that wracked his whole body.

But all this was as nothing to the horror around him. He was in a vast blackened wilderness, which, although unlit, he could see stretched away for miles in every direction. Then the awful realisation struck him that the nauseating slime was in fact millions of orc body parts, layer upon layer, squirming and writhing as if trying to resolve the revolting wreckage back into at least one whole creature.

And the entire pulsating, suppurating mass was moaning and crying as it heaved and thrashed about. There was a symphony of dissonance, from sharp keening whines to low-throated growls, wailing, whimpering and sobbing.

Pippin, shaking with horror and revulsion, desperately clawed his way through the midden of orc wreckage, sobbing with fear that this might be his eternity – a just punishment for asking disrespectful questions. "Please! Please – I'm sorry! Please let me out!"

"That's enough!" A brusque, but familiar voice cut through the agonised wailing. Then added more gently, "Come Pippin, take my hand. You should not be here."

Gratefully, Pippin grasped Gandalf's hand and the nightmare became a blur and he was once more standing on the small mound within the circle of the deities of Ilúvatar. Still shaken from the experience Pippin looked tentatively around, wondering what other horrors these magnificent beings might have in store for him.

Gandalf felt the trembling in the hobbit's hand and prodded him firmly in the back. "Take a deep breath, then stand tall and hold your head up. If you believe you have done nothing of which to be ashamed then you have nothing to fear."

Pippin gulped the deep breath down awkwardly then pulled himself up as straight as he could and stuck his chin out the way Merry always did when he was at his most stubborn. Suddenly he realised that he was no longer pixie-sized and then, just as abruptly, he found there was someone his own size standing next to him.

"Merry! How did..."

"Not now, Pip!" Merry took his other hand and squeezed it gently. "We have to persuade Lord Mandos and his friends to let you go back to your body. I knew you weren't dead! I told them!" Merry turned to the Wizard for confirmation. "Didn't I tell you Gandalf?"

"Indeed Meriadoc," Gandalf raised a warning eyebrow to both hobbits. "Now that Peregrin's question has been answered, perhaps he could confine himself to the business at hand."

"But Gandalf!" Pippin looked up at the Maia, surprised and a little daunted by his startling appearance. For, within this realm, the Wizard was imbued with a radiance and exuded power far beyond any that he displayed in his mortal incarnation. "Wh-what about the orcs? And... and what about Bloggin? That is more important!"

"More so than your own continued existence?"

Pippin was not sure which of the deities had posed the question, but it seemed as if he were being given a choice. "Well... yes..."

"Pippin!" Merry was momentarily shocked. But as he turned to his cousin he saw the tears and sincerity in his eyes. "Why... why do you say that?"

"Because they have no real choices," Pippin was not confident that he could explain to these wondrous beings how he felt, or even if he could move them to pity, but at least he should explain it to his beloved Merry. "We chose to go to the War, but they are driven to fight and they don't really know any other way to behave. But when they had a choice... I mean like Cap'n Smag and Sniggin and especially Bloggin... and even our gaoler and Grutfley... when they had the chance to do the right thing, they took it."

"So what are you saying Pip?" Merry of course knew nothing of Bloggin's exile outside the Halls of Mandos or what Pippin had just seen. "What does happen to them when they die?"

"It's horrible, no, it's more than horrible, in truth it's ghastly!" Pippin began to quake again at the recollection. "They're all just bits and pieces, arms and legs strewn about and all muddled up and squirming and in terrible agony!"

"That is how they die." The shimmering Lady – Elbereth, Pippin realised, spoke. "Their bodies are not remade but cast into an abyss of no return."

"But why?" Merry had forgotten for the moment his anxiety over Pippin's case. His cousin's description and obvious distress at what he had seen was of more concern now. "Their lives are tortured enough! Why must they go on suffering after death?"

"And... and then, there's poor Bloggin," Pippin continued. "He is left outside the Halls of Mandos and no one will let him in or speak to him and yet he saved everyone! And he did it out of loyalty and self-sacrifice."

"And of course," Gandalf began, unexpectedly joining in the discussion, "Bloggin also overthrew Sauron. Without his intervention and sacrifice, the War of the Ring would have been lost and Middle-earth doomed to servitude under an evil and cruel master - an astounding feat for a small and insignificant orc!"

"Olórin? We might suspect that you are not revealing all that might be told", said Mandos. "A Hand greater than yours or mine has moved a piece out of turn, what do you know of this?"

"Few have been the prophesies destined to fall from my lips," Gandalf replied. "But one above all others I will recount. When the Lord Elrond forebode that the One Ring would yet be found, I foretold, _'Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.'_ and so it has come to pass."

"Indeed," Manwë spoke now. "Frodo the Halfling, was destined to carry the burden of Isildur's Bane, and rightly, Mithrandir, you set him on his course. But there was more, an event that was not intended or prophesied, concerning Frodo's kin who stand before us now."

"I did nothing to alter their paths or destinies," Gandalf said. "Such is not within my power, as you know."

"But it was altered," the Lady Vairë declared. "Clearly in my tapestries it is shown that the twain perian who stand here were not fated to be recaptured by the Uruk-hai and that is where their paths diverge from what should have occurred."

"From that point," Mandos said, "their fates became entangled many times with Orc-kind and it cannot be denied that their actions had a profound effect on those that they encountered. It would appear that Ilúvatar Himself has decreed this change and used the innocence of these Halflings to test the loathsome nature of orcs to discover if any of the filth of Melkor has washed away from them."

Merry and Pippin had both fallen silent and were listening in awe to the Great Ones discussing their adventures. Even Gandalf, whom they had known and loved for all their lives, now filled them with wonder. He was become as one with the Valar and spoke to them as an equal. There was little resemblance to the peripatetic old conjuror that the children of the Shire ran after and their parents both scorned and feared. There was a beautiful radiance to his features and a clear but loving timbre to his tone that made the two hobbits realise that "their" Gandalf was far more than he had ever allowed them to see.

But now Merry ventured to speak. Tugging on Gandalf's robe to get attention, he whispered, "what does it mean? Why were the orcs filthy?" To Merry's surprise, the Lord Mandos answered his question.

"In the beginning of days, when the Quendi were but children of the forest, some were fearful of the Lord Oromë because Melkor had set his dark servants to broadcast lying whispers that He should be shunned. Some had courage and did not flee but faced Oromë and saw that the light of Aman was in his face and all the noblest of the Elves were drawn towards it.

"But some fled in fear and were ensnared by Melkor and although we cannot know for certain what evil was visited upon them in the pits of Utumno, all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of his darkness were enslaved and corrupted and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves.

"And they lived and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Ilúvatar, for they do not die, save in battle or by deliberate act of killing. This was the vilest deed of Melkor and the most hateful to Ilúvatar."

"So orcs were originally elves?" Merry whispered in wonder.

"And if you please," Pippin was more desperate than ever now to make a case for orc-kind. "My Lords and Ladies," he bowed low, "the orcs are not without honour. I know most are evil and vile, but they are as dogs kept on a chain and cursed and kicked and left half-starved, how could they be anything else? But they have hopes and aspirations just like everybody. They hunger and thirst and tell stories and jokes and try to make the best of their lives that they can. When they were shown the way and given the chance they acted with bravery and honour and my Smagnude was very kind to Merry and me! And... and... well those orcs at least deserve a better end!"

Pippin was worried for a moment that he had spoken out of turn. As he finished his impromptu speech there was a moment's silence, and he was not sure if they were cross, ambivalent or just thought him impudent and stupid.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a bellow of laughter from Tulkas, "Well and bravely said, little one!"

Pippin glanced up questioningly at Gandalf to see if he was in trouble. The Maia gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Good lad," he murmured. "Don't worry, you've done well."

"You have spoken from your heart, Peregrin Tûk," Manwë nodded his approval. "But this orc hero, the bane of Gorthaur the Cruel; the slayer of Sauron, it is true he would not be permitted to enter the Halls of Mandos, for no orc has ever crossed that threshold. But, now that your advocacy has confirmed his noble self-sacrifice, We understand why he has not been cast with his kind into the void and therefore We will give him audience to decide what is to be done."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Grrrrroww! Snnnissssshh!" Bloggin hissed and spat from the log under which he had wriggled as soon as he materialised inside the woodland dell.

"It does not look like a hero," said Tulkas. "It looks rather frightened."

"Yes," Gandalf bent down to peer at the snarling orc. "As is often the way with the truly brave, for what meaning has bravery when one is mighty and fearless?" He handed his staff to Pippin to hold, grimacing as he knelt down and extended a hand. "Stop growling Bloggin and come here. You've nothing to be afraid of, take my hand, I'll look after you, I promise."

"Come on Bloggin," Pippin stooped down beside the Maia. "I was worried too, but it does seem to be all right, and Gandalf and Merry are both here with us."

"Well I din't do nuffink!" Bloggin snapped.

"Ah," Gandalf smiled. "At least he seems to have progressed from growling to general denial. Come along now Bloggin, you are being ridiculous. No one is accusing you of anything heinous, quite the opposite in fact!"

"Wot? Eh?"

"You're not in trouble," Merry explained.

"I'se gotta be in trubble!" Bloggin sniffed. "All them majickal shiny blokes is lookin' at us an' I'se finking it's as how I et their golden ring an' then got it melted in the fire river!"

"Yes and no," Gandalf said, confusing the poor orc even more. "But it was a good thing that you did."

"Look 'ere, yer might as well give it a go, Blog!" The orc jumped at the sudden voice in his ear. "Don't seem as like dey means yer any 'arm!"

"Yewch!" Bloggin batted at his ear and then, blinking rapidly, saw an odd looking little orc figure coalesce in front of him. "'Oo're you?"

"Jist a friend," the odd little orc replied. "Come on, I'll stays wiv yer, make sure yer all right."

"Gandalf! Gandalf – look!" Although Pippin was whispering, he could not keep the excitement out of his voice. "Eroo a'Reroo! He's talking to Bloggin and helping him!"

"Who?" Gandalf could see that Bloggin was indeed emerging at last, but could not see anyone with him. "What are you talking about?"

"It's Pip's imaginary friend," Merry supplied helpfully. "He sometimes shows up when there's a problem."

"Can you see him, Meriadoc?" Gandalf asked as he finally took Bloggin's hand and began to lead him to the centre of the dell.

"Oh no," Merry admitted. "I've only ever seen him once for certain, but I can generally tell when he's around."

"Well that's good to know," Gandalf shook his head and turned his attention back to the orc. "There's a good lad, Bloggin. Now stand straight and answer up as best you can."

"Yers," Eroo stood on the other side of the frightened orc. "Jist like wot the wizzard sayed. Put yer chin out 'cause I got some o' that blue paint of yorn. Yer might as well look yer best for the posh nobs!"

Bloggin listened to the advice from both sides, and pulled himself straight. The others watched with surprise as the little orc's face gradually turned blue, but only Pippin could see Eroo a'Reroo applying the woad and then standing back to admire his handiwork.

"So this is the great orc hero?" Oromë looked down with a puzzled expression. "Why is it blue?"

"Please your Lordshipness," with Eroo's encouragement, Bloggin was finding previously unknown depths of courage within himself. "Iss me battalion colours, we wuz the Blue Rainbow Battalion."

"Surely a rainbow should be the whole spectrum of red to violet?" Vairë laughed. She had of course woven many orcs into her tapestries, but had never before seen one in this light.

"Yurs your Ladyness," Bloggin looked down at his feet in embarrassment. "But we only knewed how to make the one colour."

"Like all his kind, he's an ugly thing," Tulkas said with a snort of derision. "Paint of any hue must be an improvement."

"Peace Tulkas!" Manwë held up a hand to silence the outspoken Lord. "Evil wears a face of ugliness through lack of care. That these creatures have noticed, and attempted to amend their appearance, bodes well for their emergence from evil."

"Listen well small orc," Mandos said. "I will ask you some questions and you will answer carefully and truthfully."

"Yurs your Sirship!" Bloggin looked anxiously up at Gandalf and then at the Great Lord, who had previously ignored him, wondering if this change was for the better.

"You're all right Blog," Eroo whispered in his ear. "Jist tell wot yer knows, carn't say fairer n'that!"

"You had a mother, I understand?"

"Yurs Sir," Bloggin confirmed. "She wuz cruel-hard struck down."

"And you loved this mother of yours?"

"Oh yurs!" Bloggin could feel the tears prick the back of his eyes at the mention. "She wuz the beautifulest, kindest mother anyone ever had! And me bruvver too, he looked out fer me when our mother wuz gone!"

"This is strange behaviour for an orc," Manwë observed. "Again I suspect something contrived to test the nature of orc-kind."

"Why did you desert your own army in order to fight on the side of Lord Aragorn's forces?" Mandos continued. "Was that not a dereliction of duty?"

"I don't rightly knows wot that is?" Bloggin frowned at the long words. "But I wuz on the side of Cap'n Smag! He wuz the bestest Chief wot I ever knew! I wudd've done anyfink fer Cap'n Smag!"

"Once more we see the pattern," Manwë nodded in understanding. "Smagnu was influenced by the Periannath, Peregrin and Meriadoc and he in due turn gave succour and choice to these lesser orcs."

"Is that why you agreed to help Mithrandir?" Mandos indicated the wizard, "Gandalf you call him. Was it because of your Captain Smagnu?"

"Yurs," Bloggin agreed. "But Lord Mister Gandalf Sir, He wuz good to me an all. He wuz in me 'ead a lot and we got to know each other quite chummy like!"

"Indeed!" Mandos looked quizzically at Gandalf, who offered no explanation. "And what made you decide to overthrow the Lord Sauron?"

"It weren't really a Decide!" Bloggin said. "It all got going so quick! But I'se could see it was a tricksy thing, an all of what Mr Frofro had said and so many o'dem majickal fings jist happenin' an' den all of a flash I knew wot wuz wot! I knew'd it'd hev to be me an' I weren't gonna come out o' it alive but – well dere it wuz!"

"Then it is true," Manwë declared. "It is clear now that Ilúvatar Himself has set this in place and put a test to this orc to see if there was hope for his kind."

Oromë considered this for a time and then said, "Lord Manwë, you above all others know the heart of Ilúvatar, but if we were to act in haste and error would this not grieve Him to the core?"

Then Aluë, who had long been silent, said, "We should not rush to interpret the wishes of Ilúvatar. I, above all others, know this to be true."

"You all look with closed eyes!" The Lady Elbereth sighed, but with a smile she said, "Do you not see the bigger truth that is there? The sprite that befriended the perian, Peregrin, is where the attestation lies. He stands now beside the little hero."

"I see only Mithrandir," Mandos said.

"Mithrandir and an ugly little orc," Tulkas added with a roar of laughter.

"Do not blame the small creature for his appearance," Yavanna cautioned. "His actions and answers are fair beyond his mere facade."

"At least he painted his face blue!" Pippin said leaping to Bloggin's defence in spite of a warning raised eyebrow from Gandalf.

"He should get marks for effort at any rate!" said Merry with a defiant nod.

"Indeed and there is more that can be achieved." The Lady Elbereth's shimmering form moved lightly across the path where Bloggin stood clutching Gandalf's hand and, as she passed, silver dust fell in a great cloud until both the orc and wizard were coated in an iridescent glow. Bloggin shook himself and sneezed, but looking down at his form and then up at Gandalf, he gasped in amazement. The Lady spoke to him softly, "Even as Eärendil was bathed in diamond, so shall you be clad in starlight, little one."

As she spoke, the stardust adhered also to the faerie form that was Eroo a'Reroo, until at last the orc shaped creature could be seen by all as a glistening outline standing next to Bloggin.

"Who is that?" asked Tulkas, "it seems familiar."

"It's Eroo a'Reroo," supplied Pippin helpfully. "Although he's not as tall as he used to be, but he's my friend. I've known him forever."

"Eroo a'Reroo?" Mandos frowned at the name. "Is this some kind of mockery?"

"No, Lord Mandos," Elbereth was solemn now. "He – the sprite that is – He is a sliver of consciousness from Eru Himself, sent to find a small being that might test the worthiness of the orcs. I was not certain before, but now I understand. He found Peregrin Tûk as a baby and stayed by him to guide him and keep him from harm when he could. It was important that nothing interfered with Peregrin's progress and that neither he, nor anyone else knew his destiny."

"But the name?" Tulkas asked. "Why so strange – so awkward?"

"That is simply what little Pippin called him!" Elbereth laughed. "He was but a child and could barely talk. The sprite is a scion of Eru nevertheless and when He speaks to the perian He still uses the same childish language as when they first met – is that not so Peregrin?"

"Yes, Milady," Pippin whispered, still in awe of the Lady's presence. "And He always looked just like Merry, I think because Merry's my best friend. But just now, he looks like Sniggin, that's Bloggin's brother."

"For this sprite, this Eroo, is wise in the ways of putting those He helps at their ease," said Mandos. "So it is agreed and understood. This Eroo a'Reroo, the scion of Eru Ilúvatar, was sent by Him to alter the path taken by the Periannath, Meriadoc and Peregrin, and even that of Samwise and Frodo, in order to test the Orcs. And if that test proved sound, we must devise a new fate for all of Orckind."

Then Manwë spoke with solemn gravity. "Speak now any here who does not agree that the orc, Bloggin has passed the test, or hereafter make no protest at my judgement or his fate."

There was silent assent and at length Manwë continued. "Bloggin the Orc, for your deed of bravery in defeating Gorthaur the Cruel, your mortality is forfeit. Even as Eärendil in his hour of honour was not to return to the living, so too must you remain in the Houses of the Dead."

"You wish to admit him to the Halls of Mandos?" Oromë voiced the unspoken concern of Námo.

"He shall be the first," Manwë said. "A new stem will be grafted to the Halls, and for the count of many ages it will remain apart, but complete unto itself. But you, Bloggin the Orc, must agree to take upon yourself a great labour. Do you agree?"

"Wh-what must I do?" Bloggin could barely understand all that was being said to and about him, although Eroo was constantly whispering in his ear, explaining anything that was too confusing.

"You must go as often as you are able amongst the quagmire of dead orckind that writhes and whines in the abyss. From there you may take as many of your kindred that are willing to be succoured and the power of healing will be given to you. Each orc that you mend may return with you to your Halls and, once fully healed both in body and spirit, may join with you in the rescue and saving of others."

"Thass sounds like a good job to be doing!" Bloggin actually looked quite happy at the prospect of going into the place that had made Pippin feel so sick. But then he would be gradually cleaning the whole place up. "But Sir Your Lordshipness? W- will I finds me mother? Only that would be..."

"Your mother will be the first one you save, Bloggin the Orc," Manwë told him. "That is the least reward that you deserve. It will be a long and hard labour, but it will ease as more and more of your kind are healed and persuaded to help you."

"But another helpmeet also you shall have, I believe," The Lady Elbereth, to the amazement of all present, knelt before Bloggin and took his paw in her silken, pure hand. "If Peregrin will release Him with his blessing, then I believe that Eroo a'Reroo would choose to stay with you and guide you and help you. For it is no small task that you undertake and the wisdom of Ilúvatar you will need from the beginning to the end, if such an end there be."

"Th-that would be wonderful, Your Ladyship Majesty!" Bloggin hardly knew where to put his face. "If'n Mr Little Pip don't mind none! An... an... no it's nuffink really..."

"You wanted to ask a further boon," The Lady smiled at the embarrassed, shuffling orc. "You wanted to see your brother Sniggin one last time. That too is of great import! For how else will those orcs that yet live understand what may or may not befall them?"

-TBC-

**Notes:-**

Thanks for the delicious reviews! I apologise for not posting sooner, but Yuletide (to say nothing of **KnittedMerry's Magnificent Yuletide Greeting Card**) has been taking up my time! (If anyone doesn't know about this, please check out **KnittedMerry** on his Live Journal).

**Pippinfan1988** – Hope this doesn't distract you from your studies – well I do actually because I love getting your reviews!

**Joban** – Well, Pippin was supposed to be pleading for his own life (with Merry as his advocate) but then he met Bloggin (by chance or design – who knows?) and realised that the orc question was more important. And you do write well – which to my mind means uncomplicated and to the point – I hate purple prose and you can tell your English teacher that from me!

**Grey Wonderer** – That would be Lúthien, who sang a song so beautiful that it moved the heart of Mandos – Go her!

Merry, hmm – you're right! It's Dysgwr I feel sorry for!

Faramir had better watch himself in the future! Quite a good way Éowyn will have of keeping tabs on him!

Pippin's inability to describe the wondrous beings might be linked to my own inability to describe them! But we won't dwell on it! LOL!

Love the long review!

PS: You're definitely not an orc! (or at least you're one of the better ones!)

**Pip4** – Aha! You got where this whole thing was heading all along! (Although I admit I wasn't aware of it until it happened!)

Cheers

**Llinos**


	73. Ernil i Glamhoth

**Ernil i Glamhoth  
Chapter 164/73**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Pippin! Wake up! Pippin!"

"Hey, now then Mr Merry, slow down. Take it easy."

"Wh-what? What's happening?" Sam's voice, although soothing, had a jolting effect on Merry. "Where is everyone?"

"I am here Meriadoc," Gandalf took a deep, composing breath. "And Samwise is correct. You should calm down. Do you not remember what happened?"

"Err, yes," Merry found his memory was actually struggling for all the details. "Most of it."

"You and Legolas have been in a trance for about an hour," Frodo said, "and Gandalf for roughly half that time. What happened? Did you find Pip?"

"It seemed like longer," Merry looked at Legolas, who nodded his confirmation. "We found Pippin, so he should be waking up too."

"But remember, Merry," Legolas removed his hands from the palantír and then reached over to gently lift the hobbit's hands away as well. "There is something we have to do first."

"I... I don't quite..." Merry stammered with the effort of subduing his emotions regarding Pippin to remember exactly what had occurred. "There was something... it was about little Bloggin."

"Wot?" Sniggin, who had been sitting quietly between Éowyn and Faramir, jerked his head up in surprise and hope. "Wot 'appened? Did yer find me bruvver? Is 'e all right then?"

"He won't be coming back Sniggin," Gandalf spoke quietly. "But that is because he has an important job to do."

"Your brother is more than just a hero," Legolas sank down on his haunches in front of the orc and took both the gnarled hands in his. "He is to be the liberator and saviour of all orc-kind."

"I dun't understand," Sniggin put his head on one side and looked quizzically back at the elf. "I fought he wuz dead."

"He is," Gandalf stood next to Legolas and looked down at the confused little orc. "But we have met your brother within the realms of the Lord Mandos and judgement has been meted out to him and, through him, to all orcs. It is difficult to explain quickly," he added seeing Sniggin's obvious confusion. "But before we attempt any account there is an undertaking for you, Sniggin."

"Yes, I remember something!" Merry shook his head as if trying to loosen the wedged in memories. "It was important."

"Me?" Sniggin looked from the Elf to the Wizard. "Yer means yer gotta job fer me? Wot like summink to polish or some cooking? Or p'raps fetchin' some supplies? I'se good at that!"

"No," Gandalf shook his head. "What you have been chosen to do is..."

"...take a message to all Orcs!"

"Pippin?" Merry turned round with a start. "You're back! Thank goodness... I was getting..."

"I'se sorry Mr New Little Pip." The voice was instantly recognisable but so incongruous coming from Pippin's mouth. "Mr Little Pip said I could use his body on account of me not 'aving one no more an' needin' ta see me bruvver an all."

"B-but... but you'll give it back," Merry could not help shuddering at the thought of Bloggin inhabiting his cousin's living body. "As soon as you've seen Sniggin – I mean Pippin's all right isn't he?"

"I fink so," Bloggin scratched Pippin's head. "I ain't sure how it all works anyhow."

"Blog?" Sniggin reached out and tentatively touched Pippin's hand. "Is dat really youse?"

"Um, 'tis," Bloggin's voice sounded strange in Pippin's tone, especially as the rough orc dialect was now tinged with the soft Tookland burr. "I'se mighty sorry I gone and got kill'd dead an all Snig. What wiv youse takin' such care o' meself over the years, but I 'ad to do it ye see!"

"Well, no harm done," Sniggin's face was now enveloped in a happy grin, hideous on his wizened features. "Seemingly youse come back ter life an gotcherself a nice new body an all!"

"No! No!" Merry's shout startled even Gandalf. "He can't keep it – it's not his!"

"Meriadoc," The Wizard caught the angry hobbit by the elbow, steering him towards the tent exit. "Perhaps we should just give Sniggin and his brother a moment. I'm sure there are many items Bloggin will need to explain, the use of Pippin's incarnation..." Here he paused and looked long and meaningfully at the said incarnation. "...being quite high on the list!"

"No!" Merry shook Gandalf's grip off and planted his feet stubbornly four-square and stuck out his chin to match. His arms he folded across his chest to ward off any further attempts at gentle removal. "I'm not leaving Pippin's body alone with any orc inside it, no matter how brave and heroic – and that's final!"

"I'd like ter see the others," Bloggin said, choosing not to notice Merry's adamant stance. "The Cap'n 'n' the Sarge an' all, ifn' dat's all right?"

"You mean the other Orcs?" Gandalf said frowning down at the creature. "What, all of them?"

"As many as I kin get in one place," Bloggin glanced nervously at Merry now. "Mr New Little Pip is welcome ter come and listen too of course. Only I'se got a couple o' fings what need saying, afore Deys takes me back."

"_'Deys'_ being the Valar I presume," Gandalf frowned. "That is a rather prosaic fashion with which to describe The Ainur!"

"Beg pardon, Mr Wizzard, Sir ye 'onour," Bloggin bowed to Gandalf. "I'se din't means no disrespect wi' yon prosaicness! I'se understanding a fair mite o' fings now, but seems like me speech ain't up ter much still. I just hopes I can 'splain it all in time!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"He's doing terribly well," Pippin said enthusiastically. "Answering up to Gandalf and everything! Don't you think so Boromir?"

"He seems to be holding his own," Boromir agreed. "Although Merry doesn't seem too happy."

"No, well, he's just worried about me," Pippin, who had been leaning forward to watch Bloggin in his body, sank back into the depths of the comfortable sofa. It was not completely clear where he was at the moment. It looked like the little dell where Boromir had first taken him, but it now contained the sofa that Eroo had put into the holding room for Bloggin.

"Did They say for how long he would have your body?" Boromir had not been privy to the happenings before the Valar and appeared to have been waiting for the resolution.

"No," Pippin frowned. "I'm not even certain that I'm supposed to have it back."

"Did you not ask?"

"I forgot!"

"That would seem a rather large omission," Boromir said. "You must have been worried?"

"It never really came up," Pippin looked at the Man with an embarrassed half smile. "Perhaps I should have asked, but after I found out about Bloggin and all the orcs and how awful their fate was – well it didn't seem that important any longer."

"Peregrin Tûk." Even though the voice was gentle and kindly, Pippin jumped with a start. "Perhaps we should discuss your situation."

"Yes, Milady," Pippin jumped from the sofa and bowed low before Elbereth. Boromir seemed to fade away altogether. "What... erm how may I... that is..."

"As you rightly explained to Lord Boromir, your fate has not yet been decided or even considered." Pippin turned about to find Lord Mandos standing behind him. "You seemed to think you were dead, and yet your body lives and now it has been taken by another."

"Borrowed my Lord," Pippin tentatively corrected. Then, not wishing to appear selfish, quickly added, "but he can keep it if it helps, you know, what with all he has to do."

"That is most gracious of you, young Halfling," Elbereth's silvery laugh danced through his head. "Your help may prove invaluable."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"See, I'se not so sure how to start," Bloggin in Pippin's body gazed around at the assembly of orcs. There was a good number of them, at least 500, many of them from Captain Smagnu's blue rainbow regiment, but also quite a few prisoners of war, or at any rate those who had thrown down their weapons and surrendered. Their species also ranged from tiny snaga orcs, like Bloggin himself, to hulking great Uruks such as Smagnu. At the very back of the crowd were three large trolls who, although not strictly invited, had sensed something was happening and wanted to find out if it involved food.

"Well yer better get on with it," Smagnu growled. He had placed Bloggin/Pippin on a high rock and the assembled company was writhing all around, only kept in order by the sheer might of the Uruk Captain. "Theys getting restless and there's only so much head cracking I can do."

"Listen 'ere," Bloggin began, "I'se got summink to tell ye an' I ain't got much time!"

"Woss 'e on about?"

"One o' dems imps o' Smagnu's – dunno where it gets orf telling the likes o' us what's what!"

"What a nerve! Yer'd fink one o' der big brass wuld've come ter talk to us!"

_'no bloggin not can't do like this!'_

"Eh? Whacha mean?"

"I mean," Smagnu repeated, "I can't keep bashing heads in ter make 'em listen to yer!"

"No, I meant the voice in me 'ead?"

"Right," Smagnu accepted this immediately as he was quite accustomed by now to both Little Pips and Bloggin having private head conversations.

_'we means you need go get your wiz-wad gandalf he!'_

"Ter make 'em listen like?"

_"is - you got know use your gandalf and he keep it orcs quiret'_

"But what if'n 'e won't come? Fer me like?"

_'it good you got use your legolas and can use he mer or strider all can make 'em listen we thinks. you go send snig and he gets 'em someones.'_

"Right," Bloggin/Pippin turned quickly to his brother, who had not left his side since discovering that Bloggin was actually inside this splendid new body. "Snig could you jist run and fetch the Wizard, or the Elf or someone. Ter makes 'em lister ter me like. An' whiles yer gone, I'm gonna try and thinks what ter say to 'em."

As Sniggin hurried off on his errand, Bloggin sat down on the rock and put his head in his hands, whilst around him the sea of orcs jeered and complained.

_'you got go listering to we Eroo now'_

"But I dursent hear him?"

_'he not far, we got know when he go come at we's – he go come when you need he – just thinks hard at he and he go come'_

"Spleegh!"

_'there he go be is!'_

"Oh! I sees him now!"

"Wotcher Blog," Eroo was standing there, next to Bloggin/Pippin, albeit still painted bright blue and shimmering with Elbereth's stardust. "You gotta tell these 'ere blokes whass what den?"

"Aye," Bloggin/Pippin grabbed hold of Eroo's hand, invisible though it was to all but him. "I needs to tell 'em how to behave proper like so as dey get to go on in our new halls, as it were, when dey dies."

"Well, doncha knows how ter behave proper?" Eroo asked Bloggin.

"Not as such," Bloggin admitted. "I'se knows me Ma clouted me if'n I was cheeky to her, but I'se dursen't know nuffink else."

"Listen up to the Pippin in yer 'ead," Eroo advised, "'e learned what wuz what when 'e wuz a nipper. He wuz brung up proper like and got all dem rule fings in his 'ead."

Pippin, listening in avidly, heard, "_Spleegh knows what you go do and your Pippin he Mamma and he Nanny tolded it to he!"_

Bloggin stood up now to face the restless crowd. Just at that moment he saw Gandalf striding towards the rock with Sniggin anxiously in tow. Merry, who was keeping a careful eye on Pippin's body with its new occupant, stepped forward to greet him.

"Gandalf," Merry began fretfully, "I don't know what's going on, but Pippin – that is Bloggin – has been talking to himself for the last five minutes, and this crowd is getting ugly."

Gandalf quickly surveyed the assembled orcs and considered pointing out that they were pretty ugly to start with, but thought better of it. Instead he turned to Bloggin/Pippin. "What's the delay Peregr... I mean Bloggin? You need to get on with this. There is no telling how long you have got."

"I'se wusent sure what to says," Bloggin/Pippin explained, "but fink I got it now. I jist needs 'em to quiet down and listen ter us."

"All right," Gandalf climbed up onto the rock himself. "I'll get their attention for you." And lifting his staff he thundered out, "Silence!" Like a ripple and then a wave the quiet spread over the crowd until at last the only voice that could be heard was Grutfley snarling, "I'll give yer tuppence ha'penny fer the grog an' a brass farthing fer the meat an' thass me final offer!"

Caught suddenly in a sea of silence, Grutfley shoved his new purchases under his cloak; slapped some coins into the paw of the orc who had probably been engaged in profitable looting, and saluting vaguely in Gandalf's direction said, "Beg pardon yer 'onour. I'm all ears now."

"Thank you," Gandalf began in a lower tone. "I want you all to listen to the hobbit, erm Halfling that is. He has an important message from one of your own. What he will tell you is just part of a much longer story and concerns the immense bravery and self-sacrifice of one extraordinary orc, who this day I name Hero of Middle-earth and, although you may have known him as Bloggin, brother of Sniggin, he shall henceforth be known as _Ernil i Glamhoth – _Prince of the Orcs!"

After this impressive introduction, even Grutfley was paying expectant attention. Bloggin/Pippin found his voice was much stronger now as he began to explain to the assembly how their fate had been and how it was going to change.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"So's yer see," Bloggin/Pippin had been talking for twenty minutes describing how the Ring had been destroyed and that, because he had made a sacrifice, he had not gone to the orc torture place but been allowed to explain to the Great Powers that orcs deserved a chance at deliverance too and that now they had that. "All yer needs to do is ter be well behaved."

"So how do we do this 'ere '_well behaved'_ thing?"

"Is it like not pushin' and shovin' and spittin'?"

"Is there some rules or summink?"

Both Bloggin and Pippin were slightly flummoxed at this, but remembering what Eroo had said about Pippin being taught when he was little, carried on.

"These is the rules as far as we knows 'em," Bloggin began taking his cue from Pippin's memory, "as taught to Tûk children from the cradle:-

"1. Shut every door after you without slamming it.  
"2. Never shout indoors.  
"3. Never call to persons in the smial; if you wish to speak to them, go to them.  
"4. Always be kind and polite to servants if you would have them be the same to you.  
"5. When told what to do, by a parent or teacher, never object and obey cheerfully.  
"6. Carefully clean and brush your feet before entering the smial.  
"7. Be prompt at every meal and never take the last piece of cake.  
"8. Do not be selfish and always offer to share what you have with others.  
"9. Never sit down at the table or in the parlour with soiled hands or dishevelled hair (on head or feet).  
"10. Never interrupt any conversation, but wait patiently for your turn to speak."

"So what about killing and looting and such like?"

"Whass a smial?"

"So is spittin' still all right?"

"I ain't got nuffink to brush on me 'ead or feet!"

Gandalf, trying his best not to laugh, took over. "What the Halfling is telling you," he explained, "is to have respect for each other and yourselves. Although these rules would seem not to be relevant to any of you, in fact, I am sure they can be construed to apply. They should be used as a basis for your lore and orc scholars will be found to teach and interpret them over the years to come as Orckind establish a new and better way forward."

As Gandalf spoke, Bloggin/Pippin slid down off the rock to be caught on one side by Sniggin and on the other by Merry.

"That were right good," Sniggin told him. "I fought you wuz as good as that there wizzard an all!"

"I'se hopin' yer wuz listening careful-like Snig," Bloggin said, his voice was growing fainter now and he staggered and fell against Merry. "Only yer gonna have ter tell 'em the story and carry it on fer me, cause I fink I'm finished 'ere!"

"Pippin!" Merry shook his cousin's body as it slumped forward into his arms. "Pippin! Come back! Gandalf!"

"What is it?" Gandalf climbed down from the rock and gently eased Pippin's body away from Merry so that he could feel for a pulse. At length he let the lifeless form sag back into Merry's arms as he sadly shook his head.

"Nooooo!" Merry's cry startled even Smagnu. "He can't be dead! It's not his time! It's not right!"

"Merry, stop it," Gandalf put a fatherly hand on the grieving hobbit's shoulder. "You cannot argue with fate!"

Merry looked up at Gandalf, tears in his eyes, his fists clenched tightly with his arms around Pippin. "Yes," he growled. "I can!"

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

**Merry Yule** to all readers out there and an especially joyous **Season's Greetings** if you reviewed as well!

**Help!**

As this saga draws to a close, (and we're not there yet) I still have quite a few loose ends to tie up. As there are so many, I am concerned that I may miss someone's particular issue that they want to see resolved. So if there is something bugging you, it would be helpful if you let me know so that I can make sure it is dealt with in the epilogue (which is already getting v. long!) but, no matter, these things need to be sorted! :D

**Pip4:- **I know the story is complicated. It does my head in too sometimes!

**GW:- **So many questions, but if I were to answer, well, any of them, we would be seriously in spoiler territory! Nevertheless, do keep asking because you may hit something I have forgotten to deal with (see above) Oh – but one thing – haven't finished with Smag yet!

**Pippinfan:- **Many partings indeed! (See note above) Don't forget to let me know about any loose ends you would like to see tied!

**Joban:- **Whoops! Sorry I may have rattled your comfort zone a little with this chapter! But it's not over yet!

**FantasyFan**:- So sorry you didn't get the alerts – I don't know what to make of that. GW had a similar problem, but she redid the alert thingy and it seemed to work again. I certainly missed your thoughtful reviews. There is still the conflict of where Pippin ends up to resolve – so hang on in there.

**ebbingnight**: Don't think I can do too much about Boromir, but, you're right, I guess he is still a bit of a loose end.

**LLinos**


	74. What Might Have Been

**What Might Have Been  
Chapter 165/74**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"He's not dead."

"Really?"

"Really! I've seen this before. It looks very much like death, but he is still breathing, even though it is very shallow – look."

Dysgwr selected a sharp and shiny knife from amongst his instruments and turned back to Pippin.

"'Ere what you doing?" Smagnu quickly grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it until he dropped the knife.

"For pity's sake!" Dysgwr snapped. "I was not going to hurt him. What do you think? Merry call your Orc off please!"

"It's all right Captain," Merry picked the knife up and handed it back to the affronted man. "Mr Dysgwr wouldn't hurt anyone. He's a healer you know."

"So you say," Smagnu grunted, "But I ain't seen him do much healering yet!"

"Give him a chance," Merry watched as Dysgwr buffed the blade on his sleeve and then held it carefully under Pippin's nose.

"Well?" Smagnu snarled impatiently.

"Wait," Merry whispered, scarcely able to breathe himself.

"There!" Dysgwr announced proudly.

"Yes!" Frodo in excitement slapped Sam on the back, while Merry and Legolas leaned forward to examine more closely the faint mist that had appeared on the blade's surface.

Their elation was understandable as it would have seemed to all intents and purposes that Pippin was indeed lifeless. But Merry had insisted that he be brought back to the healer's tent to be examined. Perhaps it was the jolting of being borne in Smagnu's arms, even though he was as gentle as he knew how, or maybe the thorough examination that Dysgwr had carried out, but whatever the cause – Pippin was now breathing.

"All that remains," Gandalf began, trying to sound optimistic, "is to wake him up!"

"Indeed," Frodo said, patting Sam apologetically on the shoulder. "Pippin never was very good at that."

"Nevertheless," Dysgwr began soothing Pippin's brow with a wet cloth. "Where there is breath there is life and where there's life there is hope."

"Yes," Legolas said with a smile on his face. "Take heart Merry, it would appear that Pippin is alive. The question is... Merry? Merry!"

"What's up?" Smagnu stepped forward and caught Merry as he collapsed, "New Little Pip? What's wrong?"

Dysgwr reached out for Merry's pulse as Smagnu laid his comatose body down next to Pippin. "His heartbeat is very faint, but he lives."

"Perhaps he and Pippin will be reunited," Gandalf shook his head. "But not in the way we had hoped."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"...the question is..."

"...does he live or does he die?"

Legolas's voice seemed to change even as he spoke and when Merry opened his eyes he realised that he was no longer hearing the Elf, but that it was the Lord Manwë who was speaking.

"I have consulted with Vairë and she says that it is still unclear." Námo replied. "She says that the history is being unwoven and remade even now. The disruption that was caused by the redemption of the orcs has thrown a veil over the future of those closest to the alteration."

"And what does the Halfling have to say for himself?"

"He is unsure. That is why I have summoned his Advocate to speak on his behalf."

Merry blinked and looked around. He was in Máhanaxar once more standing in the centre of the Ring. Pippin was beside him, looking anxious.

"Merry! Thank goodness you're here," Pippin squeezed his cousin's hand in his. "I was trying to answer the questions, but you know how muddled I get sometimes."

"Don't worry Pip," Merry squeezed his cousin's hand back. "I know you're not dead."

"Then you would assume to know more than the Valar, Meriadoc, son of Saradoc," Lord Námo said. "Perhaps you would enlighten us as to your reasoning."

"It is not easy to explain," Merry began, and although his words seemed unsure, his voice rang with confidence. "He is my cousin, but closer than brother and I have always known that he would not die before me."

"But what of the time in the prison of Barad-dûr when you tried to end your lives?" Lord Námo asked. "You administered the poison drug to your cousin before you took it yourself, ensuring he would die before you."

"That's true," Merry shook his head sadly at the memory. "But my plan was that we should die together. I did not want Pip left alone to face the consequences of betraying our kinsman, Frodo, to the Dark Lord."

"Nevertheless," Manwë spoke now, "he did eventually meet his fate under those very circumstances."

"But did he meet his fate there? Is that not what we are here to decide?" Both hobbits turned with delight to see the Lady Elbereth. "We must also remember that Peregrin did not give in to Gorthaur the Cruel. Neither did Meriadoc ever relinquish his search for his soul brother."

"We do not seek to dispute the worthiness of Peregrin or of Meriadoc," Námo said. "Many who are equally worthy die, often before they reach old age or seemingly before they can fulfil their potential. Such is the way of Ilúvatar."

"So please you My Lord?" Merry raised his hand as if in the schoolroom. "May I ask a question?"

"Ask," Manwë said.

"If you take no account of worth," Merry shrugged. "How am I to plead Pippin's case? What is it that you need to know of him? I can tell you he has immense value, not just to me, but to all who know him. But if that does not count, what can I tell you?"

"All we need to know," Manwë said, "is whether or not this was his time to die."

"But how can I tell you that?" Merry exclaimed. "I firmly believe it is not, but that is not something for which I can show evidence."

"Oh there is much you can tell us," Námo said. "And your answers will determine the truth. My Lady Vairë comes hither now for she has been studying the rift around you Peregrin and you, Meriadoc."

Merry frowned at Pippin with an unspoken question, but Pippin merely shook his head in reply. That the Valar had seen some kind of rift around them was worrying, particularly as they had no idea what that meant.

"My Lord Námo," The Lady Vairë had suddenly appeared beside him. "I have traced each anomaly in my webs now. Once the periannath answer the questions, the truth will be made clear and I may return to my weaving, for there will be much repairing to be done."

"Very well," Námo said. "Let us begin."

Vairë turned to the hobbits. "When you were in Fangorn, why did you stray from the Ents and fall asleep?"

"We could not understand all that they said," Merry began. "And their speeches were long and we became bored."

"Yes!" Pippin chimed in. "But there was more! There were mushrooms – remember Merry? Really delicious, plump mushrooms, we ate them and then fell asleep."

"Ah," Vairë said knowingly. "That is it. The mushrooms were soporific and not supposed to be there. They are not in the webs and do not belong in the periannath's original story."

"So does that mean I'm not dead?" Pippin asked hopefully.

"No," Námo almost smiled at him. "There is more to be discovered."

"After that one event," Vairë continued. "Peregrin and Meriadoc go to many places that were not expected and have had many adventures that were not predicted to be theirs."

"And these happenings had a profound effect on various outcomes?" Lord Námo asked.

"They did," Vairë confirmed. "Some for good, such as finding a new path for Orc-kind, others less helpful, as Peregrin's addiction to the opiate narcotic and yet more which are unclear, for example, the periannath's ability to mind-speak."

"Did nothing remain as forecast?" Námo said.

"Some elements remained unchanged," Vairë said. "That Peregrin looked into the Palantír of Orthanc; that Meriadoc took a part in the slaying of the Witch-King of Angmar, although he was injured in the conflict to an extent which was not prophesied."

"From these divergences," Manwë spoke now. "Is there something which may indicate the fate of Peregrin?"

"There is one truly significant element that I have found," Vairë replied. "But I must temper it with a question to the periannath to know the truth of it." She turned to face Merry and Pippin. "Look deeply into your innermost selves. Remember a time that was not – but might have been."

As she spoke both Merry and Pippin felt a veil descend over their surroundings and it seemed they were wafting upwards towards the blue sky. As they ascended, the heavens turned to grey and, although the sun glinted off many armours and spears, a deep gloom remained over everything.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Merry was standing on the high battlements of Minas Tirith. He felt weary and weak and his arm throbbed with pain, but not as much as his heart ached for the distant, figure of Pippin, small and upright, amongst the tall men of Minas Tirith.

Merry noticed that beside him stood a boy, young enough to match him in height. As he spoke, Merry remembered that his name was Bergil.

"Come Master Perian!" the lad said. "You are still in pain, I see. I will help you back to the Healers. But do not fear! They will come back. The Men of Minas Tirith will never be overcome. And now they have the Lord Elfstone, and Beregond of the Guard too."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Pippin was surrounded by darkness and chaos. His ears were filled with the screeching of foul creatures and the screams of dying men. Merry was not by his side, but he recognised the man next to him as one called Beregond.

But even as the recognition dawned on him, Pippin saw a great troll-chief smite the man down and reach for his throat. Before he could think, his sword was in his hand and he was stabbing upwards with a thrust that rent the monster's vitals causing black blood to spill out. Then the colossal creature came crashing down.

Pippin tried to move out of the way, but there was no escape as blackness, stench and crushing pain overcame him. 'So this **_is_** the end,' he thought. And even as his soul winged away from him he seemed to hear voices crying in some forgotten world far above.

"_The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"_

For one moment Pippin's thought hovered. 'Bilbo!' it said. 'But no! That came in his tale, and it is ended now. Good-bye!' And his thought fled far away and his eyes saw no more.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Then they were back in Máhanaxar.

"So it would appear," the Lord Námo was saying. "That in the predicted reality, Peregrin son of Paladin, you do die."

"No! No! No!" Merry whispered, half to himself and half aloud. "That cannot be – it does not feel right."

"But Meriadoc," Vairë said. "This is how things would have been if the rift had not occurred. Peregrin would have died in the battle. There is no more to be said."

"Why Meriadoc?" The Lady Elbereth came to him now and put her hand upon his brow. "Why do you feel it is not right?"

"I-I just think there is more." Merry said desperately. "I cannot tell what it is, but it does not feel like the end. Could the Lady Vairë not let us look again?"

"No," Vairë said. "There would be no purpose to it. What you have seen is what would have been and so must it be in the other reality."

"Merry," Pippin took his hand. "Please don't grieve. I accept my fate – you must too."

"But there were others!" Merry insisted. "Others who were diverted from their paths by what we did. What of them and their recollections of what might have been?"

"How will that alter what should have been?" Lord Námo said. "Meriadoc son of Saradoc, we have heard Peregrin's case and have examined it from every possible perspective. It is certain that he was destined to die in the original stream of time. You must accept our word now and continue your life without him."

"Please!" Merry fell to his knees. "After all that Pippin has achieved in helping the orcs, does he not deserve another chance? Please! I am certain there is more."

There was a long and pregnant silence. Merry remained on his knees, his hands clasped in supplication. Pippin knelt beside him and put his hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"Perchance," the Lady Elbereth said at last. "We should allow this."

"Perhaps," Manwë conceded. "Lady Vairë, would you speak now of the others?"

There were nine walkers," Vairë began. "Two were the periannath before us. Frodo son of Drogo, was the Ringbearer and he and his servant Samwise were not so involved with the rift in events, for they had already severed their ties with the Fellowship. Boromir of Minas Tirith died before these occurrences and will soon pass over to join his ancestors. Mithrandir also was drawn in, as was the elf Legolas, son of Thranduil, but how much their paths were altered it is hard to see, because their lives span many thousands of years."

"So we are left with just two possible witnesses to the prophesied death of Peregrin," Námo said, "the Lord Aragorn and Gimli, son of Gloin of Aluë's people."

"You shall be allowed one more advocate," Manwë said. "We shall leave it to you, Meriadoc and Peregrin to choose which of these two shall be allowed to look into their alternate path to see if there is more to tell. But you must decide quickly."

"Thank you, thank you, my Lord!" Merry turned quickly to Pippin taking his hands in his. "Which one Pip? What do you think?"

"I don't know," Pippin breathed. "How should I choose?"

"Um... um..." Merry, normally a fast thinker, was outdoing himself. "Think back to when you were on the battlefield, to the closest point you might have been if that had really happened." Pippin nodded. "Think," Merry insisted, "who did you spend most time with?"

"Erm... Legolas," Pippin began, "no, I can't choose him. I don't know."

"Well," Merry changed tack. "Who do you think would be most likely to find you on a battlefield?

"Gimli," Pippin nodded, then shook his head, "No, erm... I'm not sure..."

"Think!" Merry shook his cousin. "You have to choose!"

"Strider!" Pippin decided nodding his head vigorously. "He's good at finding things what with being a tracker and all. I'm sure he would have found me!"

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

A Very Happy New Year to all readers and a special big thank you to reviewers!

**Pip4:- **Yes indeed! Pippin speaking like an orc, Eroo speaking like Baby Pippin and then like Bloggin and then Pippin speaking normally in wherever he is and then broken Sindarin in mindspeak – Sheesh! I find it all most confusing!

**GW:- **Hope you are après flu now? I think Merry has already booked his long holiday – probably going on a cruise (or is that Frodo?) Pippin talks to Elbereth much the same way he talks to Gandalf or Aragorn or Denethor or pretty well anyone really! And **Gut**frey? How sick were you? Anyway thanks for the reminders and I do have all these things covered! Just not saying how yet!

**Pippinfan:- **Oh I'm sure there will be some loose ends – your trust in me is gratifying! I only hope it is justified!

**Joban:- **Bloggin remembering Pippin's thoughts – yes I think that's how it works. To be honest, I'm not sure how telepathy operates really – I'm only guessing! :-D

**ebbingnight**: I think Gandalf understands that people (and orcs) need to find their own way, otherwise it doesn't really work.

Thanks once more for your kind reviews and see you soon!

**Llinos**


	75. Stop and Think

**Stop and Think  
Chapter 166/75**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

Merry blinked awake and shot upright as he abruptly remembered what he had to do. Beside him he could see Pippin's body, pale and unmoving, hardly any sign of life, although Merry guessed he must be breathing or he would not still be in the healer's tent.

"Where's Aragorn?" Merry said without any preamble. "Pip needs him now!"

"Merry," Gandalf put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Aragorn has looked at Pippin, and there is nothing more he can do for him at the moment."

"No, no," Merry started for the exit. "You don't understand! Aragorn has to come with me to save Pippin. I need him right now."

"Wait," Gandalf began. But Merry was already on his way and did not even look back. He suspected that someone might try to stop him, to make him explain what had happened, but, as far as he was concerned, every second was precious and he was not about to waste a single one. "Legolas," Gandalf sighed, "Perhaps you and Captain Smagnu would be kind enough to retrieve our impetuous young friend."

"I would," Smagnu said. "But what's the point? If he needs this Aragorn then there ain't nothing going to stop him!" Smagnu understood Merry well by now. "If New Little Pip wants something..."

"No," Gandalf interrupted. "Even Merry's determination will not be enough this time. The Lord Aragorn has left the camp to travel to Ithilien. He is seeking a better place for the men to recuperate before returning to Minas Tirith. Merry will not find him here."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry had got as far as the temporary corral where the horses were kept when Smagnu caught up with him. He had decided not to ask for Shadowfax as he knew that one whistle from Gandalf would bring the stallion back to the camp. Instead he had singled out a smallish mare and was persuading the Rohirrim guards that his colleagues Drâmym and Ŭnomer had authorised him to take a horse and that they were to help him to board any mount he chose.

"New Little Pip!" Smagnu, amazingly soft on his feet for an Uruk, took Merry by surprise. "You have to stop. Your Wizard sent me to fetch you back."

"Really!" Merry snorted. "I don't think he or you quite understand what's at stake here. I have to find Strider – Pip needs him."

"You ain't gonna find him on yer own," Smagnu pointed out. "He left a while ago and that nag'll never catch up with him. An' who is this Strider anyhow? What makes him so important all of a sudden?"

"I might catch up with him," Merry retorted angrily. "You don't know I won't! He might stop and anyway I have to..." the hobbit paused mid-flow. "What do you mean – who's Strider? I'm talking about the Lord Aragorn, the heir of Elendil, the new High-King of Gondor!"

"Some fancy names he've got there," Smagnu furrowed his already snarled brow. "Funny thing names – ain't they?"

"What?" Merry was so taken aback by the non sequitur he was momentarily lost for words.

"Look," the Rohirrim guard was growing impatient. "Do you want this steed or not?"

"No he don't" Smagnu supplied, taking a firm hold on Merry's arm and steering him away from the horses.

"Let go of me!" Merry tried to kick Smagnu, but the Uruk held him just out of reach. "Smagnude! I'm warning you..."

"Warning me of what?" Smagnu gave a grotesque laugh. "Why don't you just settle down and tell me about it, New Little Pip, or should I say, Merry?"

"You've never called me that before," Merry stopped struggling at last. "I never had time to explain to you about that."

"I know," the Uruk said. "And my name is Smagnu, not '_Smagnude'_! **_I_** never found time to explain about that. But it's hard to unlearn something. I first knew you as New Little Pip and thass what you stayed in my mind."

"But Captain," Merry smiled up at the great beast. "Smagnu... my friend... I have to find Aragorn – he is Pip's only hope. Won't you help me?"

"Of course, I'll help you," Smagnu said. "I've been doing a lot of thinking just lately and a lot of what Little Pip, or rather Bloggin as I understand it... a lot of what he said made some sort of sense. It was about considering others and perhaps a bit o' thinking before you go doing things is important too. So maybe..." Smagnu paused and looked hard at Merry, "maybe you just need to slow down and do a bit o' thinking too."

"How do you mean?" Merry asked. "I just know that Pip needs Aragorn, what's to think about?"

"I dunno," Smagnu admitted. "But it just don't feel right. You know, like you knows Little Pip ain't dead, I gotta feeling about this."

"We-ll," Merry appeared lost in thought for a moment. "There was an alternative, but Pip and I discussed it and Pip decided it was Aragorn."

"What was the alternative?" Smagnu asked.

"Gimli," Merry told him. "They said it could be Aragorn or Gimli and we had to choose one of them."

"So how do you know it's not the dwarf?"

"I don't," Merry admitted. "It could be that neither one of them will make any difference and that Pippin will still be considered to be dead, but there was a slim chance that one of them will have a different memory."

"How do you mean?" Smagnu was understandably perplexed at this. "What does memory have to do with anything?"

"It's hard to explain," Merry began, "but it seems there was a rift, a fissure in time and everything changed. Things happened that were not meant to be and some other things didn't happen that should have. But Pippin and I were allowed to look at this alternate reality and in it we both saw him die. At least," Merry amended, "I saw him go off to war and Pippin saw himself die, so the Valar, who apparently are in charge of such things, deem he is dead in this reality too. But they said we can ask one other, Aragorn or Gimli, to look at their alternative memories of things to see if they agree, and Pippin chose Aragorn. That's why I have to find him! So he can go to the Valar and tell them that Pippin didn't die in the other reality."

"So..." Smagnu started slowly as he tried to absorb all of this, "how do you know Gimli, your dwarf friend, won't also have a different memory?"

"I don't," Merry agreed. "But Pippin chose Aragorn."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted. "Just a guess really I suppose."

"I reckon there's more to it than that," Smagnu grunted. "I reckon you look at your great Lord Aragorn and thinks, _'well he's a fine handsome fellow, brave and clever! Lots of names and all! Of course he'd be a better bet than an ugly, misbegotten dwarf!'_ Maybe we orcs ain't the only ones that have to unlearn our ways! Maybe Men and even you Halflings need to unlearn yerselves a way of thinking!"

Merry was stunned into silence for a moment. This was a long speech for the Uruk and, as he examined his feelings, Merry realised there was more than a grain of truth in what Smagnu had said. "You could be right," he managed eventually. "My Grandma used to say to me 'handsome is as handsome does' and I expect she was right. Grandmothers usually are. Shall we go and find Gimli?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"a-lalla-lalla-rumba-kamanda-lindor-burúme"

Gimli had been left in no doubt about the importance of the scene playing out before him and watched and listened as carefully as he could, although it was strange to be watching this vision of the hobbits, to say nothing of the image of himself, especially as he could have sworn he was taller than he appeared.

"But what does that mean?" Sam scratched his head in puzzlement.

"I don't suppose he even knows!" Frodo laughed, his smile belying the wounds on his face and hands and the bandage tightly bound where his finger was missing.

"I do!" Pippin protested. "It means 'hill'! Or at least I think it does."

"All that!" Sam gasped, "just to say 'hill'?"

"No," Merry grinned at Sam's astonished face. "It was actually much longer, but I don't remember any more, nor does Pippin, but I think it meant the hill and all its history, such as how long it had stood there and things that had happened there."

"Did you learn anything else?" Frodo asked, always interested in other languages. "Or were you not paying attention as usual?"

"Frodo Baggins!" Pippin began indignantly. "I'll thank you to remember dear cuz that I was an industrious and well-behaved scholar who always paid attention!"

"And I'm a six foot tall elf," Frodo said with a giggle, "with a long dwarvish beard!"

"I think he did well to remember that much," Legolas said, coming to Pippin's defence. "Old Entish is a very difficult language, even for Elven folk."

"Behave yourselves now," Gimli in the vision warned. "Here comes Gandalf. I've no doubt he's come to chase you hobbits back to your rest."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Gimli looked up at the expectant faces around him. "I-I'm not sure," he reported. "Pippin was trying to speak in Old Entish and Frodo and Sam and Merry and Legolas were there laughing and teasing him about it."

"Anyone else?" Merry asked impatiently. "What else was said?"

"Gandalf was about to arrive," Gimli explained. "Then the memory ended. All seemed quite jolly, but I am not sure if it was before or after the battle."

"It must have been after!" Merry decided firmly. "If Sam and Frodo were there, because otherwise they would have been in Mordor and I don't suppose we would have been sitting around joking there." As he spoke, Merry looked wildly around him. He had returned through the palantír with only Gimli for company. Boromir was still absent; perhaps having now gone to join his ancestors for eternity, but, more worryingly, even Pippin was nowhere to be seen.

"You cannot know that for certain, Meriadoc," Mandos said sternly. "This vision is not proof in itself of Peregrin's survival. He may have battled with the troll after this conversation."

"What say you, Gimli son of Gloin?" Aluë, who had not made himself known to the dwarf beforehand, prompted. "Greatson of Borin of the House of Durin, what do you believe to be the truth?"

"Mahal!" Gimli sank to one knee and cast his eyes to the ground in reverence. "I doubt not that you read what is in my heart and mind. That Peregrin lives, both then and now."

"I read so," Aluë said, "but I also read that you dearly wish the perian to live and your belief and desire alone is not a proof unto the Valar. There must be more. Recite all that you heard."

Gimli did so, leaving nothing out and even making a fair attempt at the Entish murmur. "There," he said at the finish. "That is all that was said, I am certain."

"Then there is nothing there that disproves the perian's death," Mandos declared. "I regret Meriadoc that your steadfast tenacity has been in vain. Go now and live your life and surely you will one day be reunited with your kin when your own time comes to pass over."

And even as Merry opened his mouth to protest one more time, he awoke inside the tent.

Remembering immediately Mandos's stern pronouncement he pulled away from the palantír and leapt up, balling his fists tightly, his eyes squeezed shut, he screamed at the world in general. "No! No! No! Noooooooo!"

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

Sorry this is a shortish chapter and a little overdue. (Also I've been busy getting a root canal done with more to come next week – my dentist is a serial driller!).  
OTOH, there are only three more chapters to go – so maybe I'm prolonging the agony a little.

**beanie-art1:- **Welcome to Recaptured and thank you for stopping to review, especially so nicely!

You asked about the rhyming game (which is in chapter 22 – Mind Games)

The first line has to alliterate (use the same first letter) for the adjective and the noun,

"_I'm not a __**k**__indly _(adjective) **_k_**_ing_ (noun)

Then in the second line these two have to change places in some way but still make grammatical sense.

_But I am a __**k**__ingly (_see "King" is now an adjective_) __**k**__ind (_and "kind" is now a noun_)  
_Then the third line is a disclaimer that uses the alliteration again:  
_So I wouldn't __**k**__ick a __**k**__itten  
_Which continues into the last line, which must rhyme with the second line and provide a new initial letter in the final word.  
_Or __**k**__ill a __**k**__ipper that has __**d**__ined.  
_The next player then takes over and must use the initial letter of the last word to alliterate their verse, in this case "D". I do hope that's clear?

**GW:- **Hope you're all _bettrer_ now? What I meant was "Gutfrey" as opposed to Grutfley – you know the "Gut" bit? Well, maybe not. Actually, I hope you weren't that kind of sick!  
Aha and now you're asking questions about timelines and stuff, but that is spoiler territory again! Or is it just a gentle reminder for me to sort it all out?  
I'm not sure if it was a butterfly – it could have been a rabbit! Is there a Rabbit Chaos Theory? KM is certain there is.

**Guest:- **Yes, well you know, The Valar! You just can't get the right immortal beings these days!

**Pippinfan:- **OMG! You're planning to grow up one day? Say it isn't so!

Thanks once more for your kind reviews and see you soon!

**Llinos**


	76. Ecce Signum

**Ecce Signum  
Chapter 167/76**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"How is he?"

"Not good, not good at all. He won't sleep, he won't eat, more worryingly, he won't even cry."

"Why would he cry?" Smagnu frowned at the concept. "What good would that do?"

"Never mind," Dysgwr shook his head despairingly. He had had to deal with so many new concepts since following Merry to the war and felt he had coped quite well, but trying to explain grief to an oversized orc, who, surprisingly seemed concerned with the perian's well-being, that was really beyond him. "Do you want to see him?"

"I don't think he wants to see me," Smagnu grunted. "I think he holds me to blame."

"Nonsense!" Dysgwr felt on familiar ground here. "Young Meriadoc would not hold a grudge, if anything he is blaming himself, but, I fear, without good reason. I would be grateful if you would try to talk to him. He has already sent his cousins and the wizard away."

"Hmmph!" Smagnu shrugged his massive shoulders. "Won't eat, yer says? What yer been givin' him?"

"I... what?" Dysgwr was taken aback by the question. The quality of the food had seemed the least of Merry's objections. "Just some bread really and a little cheese."

"Yeah," Smagnu nodded approval, "he'd like that. Got any biscuits? Ginger ones?"

"I-I don't know," Dysgwr really had not considered this question. "I shouldn't think so."

"Right!" Smagnu, without further ado turned on his heel. Five minutes later he was back with a small cloth bundle in one great paw and a mug of milk in the other. "I'll see him now."

The tent was in darkness but Smagnu's eyes adjusted quickly to the inky black and that aside, he could hear an almost inaudible, at least to human ears, sobbing sound. So that healer fellow had got one thing wrong, at least Merry was doing the strange weeping that was apparently necessary.

"New Little Pip?" Smagnu made his way to the cot. "It's me, Smagnu."

"Go away!"

"Can't do that," Smagnu placed his package and mug on a table and forcibly lifted Merry up into a sitting position. "I've got orders to make you eat and you wouldn't have me disobey an order would you?"

"I can't eat," Merry retorted. "It would choke me."

"Sniggin's had a bite to eat," Smagnu reasoned, "and he lost his brother."

"He wasn't the cause of Bloggin's death," Merry sniffed. "I as good as killed Pippin."

"No one could have done more than you did," Smagnu said quietly. "No one – not even your wizard or your friends. Now do as you're told and drink this." Smagnu thrust the mug of milk under Merry's nose.

"I can't!" Merry pushed the milk aside and threw himself face down onto the cot again.

"New Little Pip – Merry," Smagnu spoke with surprising gentleness. "Listen to me. I know you loved Little Pip, we all did. He was a very loveable creature, but we love you too. It would be a cruel thing for your other cousin and your friends if they were to lose you too."

"Love!" Merry, sitting up again, almost spat the word. "What do you know of love! You're an Uruk-hai, you can't begin to understand!"

"You think that – do you?" Smagnu grabbed Merry by the shoulders. "Well I fugging do know what it is to love... yes and to lose! I loved someone once – a female and I'm not just talking about lust – but real proper love – ha! I even wrote a poem!"

"Really?" Merry sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Did you?"

"Yeah!" Smagnu snarled. "Do you want to hear it? I never told it to no-one afore – not even her. But if it proves something to you I'll tell it to you. Her name was Ddraigspelt..."

And Smagnu began...

"Ddraigspelt, your name means dragon's skin  
And tells of the maid that lies within.  
A maid so strong with iron fist,  
You'll not be laid, or even kissed.

"An Uruk maid with eyes of flame  
That burn so bright, the fire could maim.  
With arms so sturdy, your muscles taut,  
You'll not be wooed, nor yet be bought.

"But your odour, so rank and sweet,  
Awakes my senses as succulent meat.  
Your flesh so jagged it feels like scales,  
And teeth as sharp as piercing nails.

"I longed to lay my head on your chest  
And run my tongue along your breast.  
I lusted for your dragon's thighs,  
So I made my court with oaths and lies.

"Your hips are wide and call me in,  
Belying the snarl beneath your grin.  
Although I can't take you without a fight,  
Your soul cries out as you growl and bite.

"We were fated to mate, but not to bide,  
Though your wore my mark, you were not my bride,  
For we are the fighting Uruk hai!  
There is no love for you or I.

"For how can an Uruk – no more a maid –  
Bend to a master or be afraid?  
How can a butcher, born to kill  
Slake his lust, whilst keeping still?

"Oh Ddraigspelt you could not be mine,  
Eyes as crimson as burnished wine,  
Fangs like ice and heart still colder,  
You're gone, yet in my soul you smoulder!"

Merry was silent as the poem drew to a close, quite lost for words. He gazed open-mouthed at Smagnu for a long time. The Uruk stared defiantly back. Eventually Merry found his voice. "You... you wrote that? Th-that was..." he paused again searching for the right words, "...amazing... I mean, I'm quite amazed!"

"What because I have some fugging emotions!" Smagnu tended to swear more when he was embarrassed. "Well there yer see – you ain't the only one what cares!"

"I... I'm sorry," Merry stuttered his apology. "I had no right to talk to you like that. What happened to her?"

"Never you mind!" Smagnu snarled. "Now drink your fugging milk an' eat these 'ere stinking biscuits what I got just for you and go to fugging sleep!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"How is Merry faring?" Legolas looked up as Gandalf entered the tent where Gimli lay.

"Sleeping," Gandalf sighed. "Thanks to our Uruk friend. Has Gimli revived yet?"

"No," Legolas took the dwarf's hand in his and felt his pulse. "He is still deep within his trance."

"And Pippin is still as cold as ice," Gandalf looked over to where Éowyn was tending the hobbit, his face was as white as snow and there was no longer any visible sign of breathing. "I fear he has indeed left us."

"Perhaps when Aragorn returns he may be able to do something for Gimli at least," Legolas said, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

"Have you tried reaching into his mind?" Gandalf suggested. "You may at least discover why he has not returned."

"Do you think that would be..."

"Gandalf! Legolas! Come and look!" Éowyn cut short Legolas's question in her urgency. "Pippin's face!"

Gandalf and Legolas both gasped as they reached the hobbit's bedside and looked down. Gently Legolas ran a finger down his pale cheek. A livid bruise had appeared.

"What do you suppose has caused that?" Legolas asked.

"It could be his blood turning sour," Éowyn suggested. "It does not look very good whatever it is. Is there nothing you can do for him?"

Gandalf lifted the blanket that covered Pippin's body and there, they all saw, was another fresh bruise. Suddenly the hobbit began to choke and Éowyn turned him on his side just as he vomited black blood onto the white sheet.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Where did Merry go?" Gimli felt himself wobble as the hobbit vanished suddenly and his own view of the strange surroundings began to dissolve. As he steadied himself, the dwarf could see that the Lord Mandos, whom some more rightly call Lord Námo, was still there, as was Aluë, the father of the dwarves who they name Mahal.

"Meriadoc has been sent back to the realm of the living," Mandos pronounced, "where you too must now return, Gimli, son of Gloin."

"I do not understand," Gimli leaned forward on his axe. "I thought my evidence would secure the young hobbit's life?"

"The conversation that you recalled from the alternate reality," Mandos said, "was not enough to prove that he did not die in that time. You repeated all that was said but it produced no indication that Peregrin survived being crushed by a mountain troll."

"Crushed by a troll!" Gimli blinked in surprise. "But that was how he looked. I mean I remember thinking he looked quite battered. His eye was blackened and he was badly bruised."

"You remember this from your brief encounter?" Aluë asked him.

"Yes, my Lord Mahal," Gimli bowed as he spoke. "If it so please Your Grace, I do believe that Pippin, looked as though he had been severely beaten... and young Frodo too. I seem to remember that his finger... his ring finger, was tightly bandaged, possibly missing, as it is in the present time."

"So my Lord," Aluë turned to Mandos. "Whereas I understand that you are the summoner of the spirits of the slain and that you forget nothing and know all things that shall be, save those that lie still in the freedom of Ilúvatar, could it be that this judgement falls into that sphere. This perian, it would seem was guided by his hand and now this child of Durin has been given a further intuition of what should have occurred. Should we ignore that now, Ilúvatar may find your decision wanting."

Gimli gasped in awe as Manwë appeared once more. Could it be that the Lord Mahal's intervention would save Pippin?

"You have spoken truly Aluë," Manwë declared. "Let this child of Durin see the perian, before we consign his fate to the Halls of the Dead. There may indeed be more that will be discovered."

As he spoke, so a vision of Pippin appeared in front of Gimli. He was smiling and seemed to be about to say something. But as the dwarf reached out to take his hand, Pippin fell to the ground and suddenly, where he had stood, there was a huge heap of bodies.

As if from a vast distance, Gimli heard his own voice ring in his ears_, '...but you too Pippin. I love you, if only because of the pains you have cost me, which I shall never forget... never forget... never forget...'_

"What shall I never forget?" Gimli muttered aloud. "I can't remember!"

"Look deeply into yourself," Aluë was beside him now. "So immense was the trauma of what you found, your mind is refusing the image. This is why you did not remember it earlier. Steel yourself, son of Durin and look!"

Gimli growled at his own failure and, gritting his teeth, forced himself to stare hard at the pile of carcases before him. There! He saw it – a hobbit's foot. He surged forward and heaved the bodies aside and there, beneath the wreckage of orc and troll, lay Pippin.

"No!" Gimli could barely believe the evidence of his own eyes. After all this, still it would seem that Pippin was dead! Then his own voice rang in his head once more.

_'Nor shall I forget finding you on the hill of the last battle. But for Gimli the Dwarf you would have been lost then. But at least I know the look of a hobbit's foot, though it be all that can be seen under a heap of bodies. And when I heaved that great carcase off you, I made sure you were dead. I could have torn out my beard.'_

"So he is dead," Gimli sank to the ground in front of Pippin's prone form, his head in his hands.

"Look once more my child," Aluë spoke softly but encouragingly. "Do not give up yet. Think! To whom are you telling this?"

"Pippin!" The scene before Gimli changed once more. He was back inside his first vision and Pippin and Merry, Frodo and Sam were seated on the grass before him. He had just finished saying, _'... torn out my beard.'_

He continued, _'And it is only a day yet since you were first up and abroad again. To bed now you go. And so shall I.'_

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Hullo Frodo, I'm glad you've come. Do you have any idea what I should be doing?"

"Resting probably," Frodo gave Merry a lop-sided smile," but I know how that doesn't really work. In any case, it's good to see you up and doing anything really."

"Well," Merry suppressed a sigh. "I thought there might be something useful I could be at. Perhaps give Dysgwr a hand or maybe the orcs need some help getting organised or some such? I imagine Sniggin's got his work cut out."

"Your Mr Smagnu is helping him," Frodo put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. "They've already made a fair copy of the rules that Bloggin, or rather Pippin, gave them and quite a few heated arguments have ensued over what is the relevance of brushing their feet to a pleasant afterlife!"

"Frodo!" Merry shook the arm off. "How can you joke – about Pippin I mean. I'm doing my best, but I'm not ready to remember him with anything but tears just yet."

"Oh Merry!" Frodo furrowed his brow and caught his cousin's hand in his. "I'm sorry I thought you knew, no one's told you, have they?"

"What?" Merry snapped, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"We're not sure yet."

"What!" Merry suddenly felt a glimmer of hope that he immediately pushed away. He had come to terms with Pippin's death now. And yet... "What Fro? What haven't they told me?"

"He's not dead you know..."

**-TBC-**

**Notes:-**

Just to distract myself from getting on with what I'm supposed to be doing (finishing the epilogue for Recap) I went and found some outstanding requests for limericks and these are now posted on fanfic dot net as well.

Please keep thinking about loose ends, for the end is nigh! I would like to know of any outstanding threads or issues that readers would like to see resolved.

**Pip4:- **Thanks for the root canal wishes – all done now, bar the crown. Thanks for the review as well. They haven't quite used all their lifelines; they can still phone a friend!

**GW:- **Maybe Aragorn was **_meant_** to run off – and perhaps that's a good thing. Toothies all bettrer now!

**Beanie:- **Sorry to keep you waiting, although I confess I do wait for reviews before posting – mea culpa!

**Pippinfan:- **To quote THHGTTG** "**Don't Panic!"

**Joban:- **Don't be sad, I have other stories :D! Although not quite as long, it's true. Also the epilogue is not yet finished but, like this story, keeps growing! Dentists are a necessary evil!

**ebbingnight** Hold that thought!

Thanks once more for your kind reviews and see you soon!

**Llinos**


	77. Beginning of the End

**Beginning of the End  
Chapter 168/77**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Pippin! Pippin!"

"Goodness Gracious, Meriadoc! Please keep your voice down!" Although Dysgwr's words were stern, there was a smile on his face. "You'll send him deaf again if you shout like that!"

"I'm sorry," Merry took Pippin's hand gently in his. It was warm. "How is he? He looks so bruised and hurt."

"Yes, Mithrandir has been trying to explain that to me," Dysgwr took a small kettle from its hob and poured boiling water onto something very pungent in a bowl. "Something to do with parallel realities, it all sounds very complicated and unpleasant."

"Has he woken at all?" Merry moved begrudgingly to one side, ushered out of the way as Dysgwr moved in to begin bathing Pippin's bruised face. "Did he speak?"

"He vomited," Dysgwr said dryly. "I cleaned it up, it was black blood. Which makes no sense at all," he added. "Halflings do not have black blood like orcs and trolls – do they?"

"What? No," Merry responded, only half listening to the man. "Would you like me to do that?" he offered. "I'm sure you've got other patients to attend to, and I'm going to be right here anyway."

"Hmm, well, you must do it carefully," Dysgwr actually had no doubt that Merry would take the greatest care of his cousin. He was well aware of how devoted the Halflings were to one another. "Finish his face and then bathe the rest of his body, especially where you see a bruise. Pat the area dry as you go and be careful he does not get chilled."

"I will," Merry wrung the cloth out into the bowl, wrinkling his nose as he did so. "What's in this anyway? It smells awful."

"Just arnica and witch-hazel," Dysgwr watched with a critical eye as Merry began his ministrations.

"Why does it stink so then?" Merry asked as he began to bathe Pippin's face.

"It is not the lotion," Dysgwr shrugged as if he did not quite believe what he was about to say himself. "It's Pippin. I've washed him several times, but he was covered in the most disgusting filth, as if he had been buried under a pile of putrefying flesh or something of that sort. There is still much of it in his hair as I need some help to wash that without disturbing him too much. Either that or wait until he wakes."

"So what did happen to him?" Merry took a sharp intake of breath as he drew back the covers and saw the blue-black bruises and abrasions. "He will be all right– won't he?"

"Why would you ask that now Meriadoc?" Gandalf had arrived so silently his question made Merry start with surprise. "You were the one person who persisted in believing he would survive."

"But I don't understand what's happened to him," Merry gently moved an errant curl back from Pippin's cheek. "He seemed all right... that is his body was not damaged... I mean when Bloggin was using his body, he wasn't badly hurt like this."

"I know, Merry," Gandalf laid a comforting hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "But much of what happened to you and Pippin, and to Frodo and Sam – to all of us for that matter, did not obey the rules of fate, at least not as they would generally apply."

"What rules?" Merry frowned. "I didn't even know there were any rules."

"Oh yes," said Gandalf in a matter-of-fact tone. "There are always rules."

"So everything we do is already decided?" Merry shrugged. "That makes it all seem pointless."

"It is not **_all_** decided," Gandalf explained patiently. "We still make choices, for good or ill, but our paths are guided by what lies in them. We each have the chance to make the best or worst of what happens. But what occurred here was that there was a small diversion in the road and the path was changed just very slightly, but not by you or your cousin. As I understand it, you and Pippin should not have been recaptured by the Uruk-hai."

"Really? Well, that wasn't something Pippin and I exactly wanted!" Merry said in surprise. "Not our choice of events. What should have happened then?"

"It is not told," Gandalf smiled, "at least, not in this reality. You had a brief glimpse of what presumably might otherwise have happened when the Valar were judging your destiny, as did Pippin and Gimli, but it did not show all. As to choosing; you and Peregrin made many choices along the way, some good, others... ahem... not so good. But the important point is that you appear to have achieved what was wanted."

"You mean that the Ring was destroyed?"

"Not just that," Gandalf said, his face solemn now. "I believe you were needed to test the orcs – to give them the opportunity, at least some of them, to make other choices. And in so doing they have found a way to possible redemption."

Merry was silent as he tried to absorb the enormity of what the wizard had just told him. Eventually he gave up and turned back to his cousin. "But what happened to Pippin?" He asked, deciding to hide his awestruck disbelief behind more questions. "Why is he so badly off? Why doesn't he wake up?"

"From what Gimli has told me," Gandalf said, "he was crushed beneath the body of an immense troll – a troll which he killed in the other reality."

"Really! Pippin killed a great troll all on his own?" Merry knew Pippin could be brave, but he was also very small. "Was that when I was left behind in Minas Tirith?"

"I could not possibly say," Gandalf shook his head. "Perhaps that is part of the problem."

"How do you mean?" Merry asked.

"Have you tried to mindspeak with Pippin?" Gandalf answered with another question as he so often did. "Since you have been in here I mean."

"No," Merry confessed. "I wanted to, but I wasn't sure if it was the right thing. I didn't want to do anything that might harm Pippin more."

"I have looked into his mind," Gandalf stroked Pippin's forehead gently, "but it was confused, running around in circles, like a dog that chases its own tail. I think he is still trying to clarify to which reality he actually belongs."

"Well couldn't you just tell him?" Merry was always one to be straightforward, especially when it came to Pippin. "Just tell him he belongs here, in this real world, with us!"

"Yes... well..." Gandalf paused in deep thought for a moment. "Perhaps you are right Meriadoc."

"I am?" Merry could not keep the surprise from his voice. It was not often – in fact the last time was outside the Gates of Moria – that Gandalf told Merry he was possibly right. "So why don't you do that?"

"I think..." Gandalf paused thoughtfully again, "...I think we all need to tell him. So many lives have been altered by this chain of events and Pippin, and you Meriadoc, are at the hub of it. But because of Pippin's conflict with reality, from his time in the palantír, he is not sure what is real and what is not anymore."

"So what must we do?" Merry stood up, anxious to begin whatever procedure the wizard recommended. "Who should I fetch?"

"Sit down Merry," Gandalf said firmly, "and be quiet, I need to think."

"But what...?" Merry began, but at a raised eyebrow from the wizard, fell silent.

"It cannot be everyone," Gandalf muttered, half out loud so that Merry could hear, although he seemed to be talking to himself. "There is too much, too many people. And..." He addressed Merry now, "...not all of them redeemed by any means. Saruman for one and there is Grima Wormtongue." Merry shuddered at the mention of both names, but did not interrupt. "And of course, your circus friends – although there have been loyal friends too."

"You mean like Drâmym and Ŭnomer?" Merry decided he had probably been silent long enough. "Or Majdi Rann?"

"Yes," Gandalf considered this for a moment. "There may be many, many people that you might not have met in the other reality, even Mr Dusgweer here!"

"That's Dysgwr if you don't mind," the healer said with an indignant sniff. "And are you planning on interfering with my patient for much longer? Only I was hoping Meriadoc would assist me so that I can wash his hair."

"I'm so sorry!" Gandalf shuddered out of his reverie. "No, we are going to need much help with this problem."

"Well, I'm sure if you just hold his head over this basin, I can manage."

"Would that it was that simple," Gandalf smiled at as he gently lifted Pippin up and held him so that his bedraggled curls fell into the soapy water. "We must take him to the Field of Cormallen for I have already urgently requested the help we need to meet us there."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

So it was that the company removed to the Field of Cormallen in North Ithilien, where a fair encampment was made for the weary but triumphant victors. Pippin it was deemed was not well enough to travel by horse or waggon and was carried with great care all the way in the strong arms of Captain Smagnu. Dysgwr the healer fussed constantly at his side, insisting the Uruk set the hobbit down at regular intervals so that he could drip water into his mouth and check his breathing. Merry too walked by his side, proprietarily holding Pippin's foot and repeating Dysgwr's orders, just in case Smagnu should not understand any part of them.

The camp in Ithilien was set amongst the beech hangers and copses, which even now were clad in cowslips and ladysmocks, with the promise of bluebells to come. The gentle green slopes of that fair countryside were laced with busy, clear streams and rivulets and, after several days, most of the company were refreshed and restored.

Pippin however, slept on and Merry, almost constantly at his side, only left when necessary or pestered by Frodo or Gandalf to take some rest. For Merry himself was far from well. The injuries he had received in Mordor were barely healed, to say nothing of the deprivation of food and sleep he had suffered.

Even when Legolas came to report, with more than a little excitement, that a company of Elven folk had arrived, still Merry did not falter in his vigil.

But then Gandalf came, with Smagnu close behind him. "Come Merry," he said, "we are ready now to attempt to recover Pippin."

Gently the Wizard lifted the comatose hobbit from his cot and placed him in the Uruk's strong arms. As Merry followed them from the pavilion where Pippin had been cared for, Frodo and Sam fell in beside him. They were joined by Éowyn and Faramir and then Gimli and Legolas.

"Where are we going Fro?" Merry whispered to his cousin as the little procession wound through the paths beneath the canopy of soft green beeches. "Who are they taking Pippin to see?"

"Don't worry Merry," Frodo gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, "Someone who I am sure can help."

They walked beside a silvery, laughing stream, which began to trickle downwards as they followed it. The mossy green verge that bordered the water was wide and soft and, as it led them gently downhill, the tree canopy began to lessen until at the foot of the hill the moss gave way to a broad glade of grass where the trees made a wide circle as if they dare not tread upon that piece of ground. It was furnished in Elven fashion with elegant couches and tables in white. In the centre there was a mysterious object that was covered with a shimmering cloth

Many elves were there, some sitting on the green-sward, some upon slender white chairs, others standing in small groups, laughing and singing as was their wont. But Merry's attention was drawn to a tall, slim figure clad in a long white gown. Her golden hair cascaded around her and touched the ground as she leaned down to talk to someone very small.

"The Lady Galadriel!" Merry breathed in wonder. "How comes she here?"

"Don't gawp Merry," Frodo nudged his cousin. "You'll catch a fly in a minute!"

Aragorn was already in the clearing and he beckoned to the group to come forward. It was then Merry noticed, to his surprise, that the small creature to whom The Lady spoke was Sniggin. He caught the end of her words to him.

"...never in fear. Hold your head high and walk with pride. You have been touched and blessed by the Valar and, through you, orcs will come to know your brother's teachings and learn redemption from your words." Then she stood and turned to greet the others. "Long has each of you laboured and, although you are now nourished and rested, I understand your weariness and sorrow that one of your number still lies in peril."

Smagnu stepped forward, looking as nervous as it is possible for an Uruk to be, which was not very much, but the slight hesitation was not lost on Merry. Galadriel touched a finger to each of Pippin's closed eyelids, then gazed long and piercingly at Merry who, although embarrassed, found it impossible to turn away from her silent interrogation.

At length Galadriel's gaze melted to a smile and she spoke in a kindly tone. "Abate your fears Meriadoc. Too long you have lived with uncertainty and danger. Your loyalty and love for Peregrin are immovable and you have followed them with unflagging strength for so long now. But here are others to help you share the burden. Be at ease and trust to the goodness and hearts of your friends."

Merry bowed his head in response, "I will My Lady and thank you for coming to help Pippin."

Then Galadriel turned to Gandalf. "Are all here that you deem will best represent the altered events?"

"All those who were most significant," Gandalf said indicating the assembled company. "The Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins and his companion Samwise Gamgee."

"Yes," Galadriel looked down at the hobbits with a smile. "Beyond all expectations have you acquitted yourselves. No elf warrior or mortal king could have done more."

Frodo felt his cheeks burn red and Sam, who for some inexplicable reason was wearing a shabby woollen hat he had acquired from somewhere, snatched it from his head and began to mulch it nervously in both hands.

"The three hunters were diverted also," Gandalf continued. "Lord Aragorn, Legolas of the Woodland Realm and Gimli son of Gloin."

"Aragorn has described for me the events that occurred to him since finding Merry and Pippin in Isengard and there is much that perhaps was not destined to happen and much that was guided by other forces."

"I am sure that the opium at least was a mistake," Aragorn said grimly. "I would like to believe that I was not so careless of my own volition."

"Legolas also," Galadriel turned to the elf. "You have taught the hobbits to speak with their minds. I understand that you would not have done this unless it was necessary. But the circumstances in which you found Pippin compelled you to do so."

"I was surprised at the hobbits' aptitude," Legolas admitted. "Indeed they have become extremely proficient, apart from some slight language problems."

"And you, Gimli, son of Gloin," Galadriel voice was mellifluous as she addressed the dwarf. "Ever brave and true, you provided the key to the enigma."

"Hrrumph!" Gimli looked abashed. "My Lady is kind to say so, but the privilege was keenly felt. Never before has living Dwarf looked upon or indeed been spoken to by Mahal, who the Elves name Aluë the Smith! I was both humbled and honoured to have played such a part."

"The others that you have chosen," Galadriel addressed Gandalf once more. "Would you describe the reason for their attendance?"

"Indeed, My Lady," Gandalf gave a slight bow. "Faramir is to represent his brother, the heroic, but lost Boromir. But also he has been much caught up with both Meriadoc and Peregrin."

Faramir glanced at Éowyn and then Merry and bowed low to Galadriel, but did not speak.

"The Lady Éowyn," Gandalf continued, "was also drawn into the events concerning the hobbits – even learning to mindspeak, as did Faramir under her tutelage."

"I felt from afar your bond with the Periannath," Galadriel said. "Your contribution was a valuable and altruistic gift."

Éowyn bobbed a curtsey to the Lady and a blushing smile at Faramir.

"Captain Smagnu will stand for the orcs," Gandalf said. "Without him Peregrin and Meriadoc would certainly have perished in Barad-dûr, although how much of that may have happened in the other reality remains to be seen."

Smagnu was unused to displays of deference, such as bowing, but he passed Pippin's sleeping body to Aragorn and, standing to rigid attention, saluted.

"Thank you Captain," Galadriel smiled graciously at the Uruk. "Together with Sniggin on behalf of his brave, martyred twin we are honoured by your participation." She beckoned to Aragorn to lay Pippin upon a soft bed that was raised up and covered in white silk. "Let us begin."

Two elves stepped forward and drew back the shimmering cloth to reveal a basin of silver, wide and shallow, beside which stood a silver ewer.

"The Mirror of Galadriel!" Sam gasped in amazement. "I thought that dwelt only in Lothlórien!"

"No my little gardener," Galadriel laughed sweetly. "It is not a tree with roots. Just as I may leave the Golden Wood, so my Mirror may accompany me."

Then she took up the ewer and filled it from the stream and emptied the water into the basin until it reached the brim. Then she breathed on it and when the ripples had abated she said, "Here is the Mirror of Galadriel. Many things I can command the Mirror to reveal for it shows things that were, things that are and things that yet may be. But now I will make a new command, for we wish to see things that might have been and yet were not."

Galadriel placed the ewer on the grass beside her and, winding her hair quickly and effortlessly into a pleat which stayed in place without pin or clip, she bent her head and gazed into the silvery water of the Mirror for a long time. All about her were silent.

At length she stood and looked about the clearing as if missing someone or something. "Where is he?" She asked Gandalf, "The one who tripped the hand of fate, for it was his action that began this alternative journey. Where is Éomer Éadig?"

**-TBC-**

**Notes:**

Thanks to all reviewers – only one more chapter to go. (Which is funny because I've just been to see Les Misérables and have the song "One Day More" in my head!)

**Pip4:- **So no complaints then? Cool!

**GW:- **Don't worry about Merry being rude, don't think orcs notice things like that. Ah the orc love poem – both Smag and I are very stoic about not explaining more (ahem, wanna write the back story?) Yes, poor Gimli, it's v. traumatic to be confronted with something that didn't happen except in another reality, especially when your friend's life depends on it – I think. (I do not write from experience here!) Let's excuse Frodo, he really thought Merry already knew (at least I think he did).

**Beanie:- **Of course they need to be invincible, otherwise you'd be accusing me of much worse!

**Pippinfan:- **Glad you liked Smag's verses but I don't think Glady's lay will be making an appearance here – Gladys possibly, but no laying!

**Joban:- **"Soundtrack be **_mad_**"? I guess you meant "Soundtrack be **_sad_**?" That's all right, you just soundtrack away! LOL! Oh and I don't see that Smag wouldn't write a poem – it's not too smoochified – no moons and Junes and stuff. More smouldering and pissed off!

Thanks once more for your kind reviews and see you soon!

**Llinos**


	78. Recaptured

**Notes:**

So this is it – the final chapter! This story was begun in January 2002 so it has been just over 10 years in the writing. Many thanks to all who have read and even more thanks to those who have reviewed and especial thanks to beta Marigold and various others who have allowed me to bounce ideas off them at various times – you know who you are! (Yes, you GW, Terry, Kelly, Sam et al).

Although this is the final chapter in the story, there will be more. I had planned to write an epilogue but, like the actual story it started getting rather long, so I have decided to tie up the loose ends with appendices, in true Tolkien style.

Therefore I shall not make more comment here, except to say, don't forget to let me know if there is a particular loose end you would like to see tied up and I will do my best.

In the meantime – thank you for watching and hope you like the conclusion!

Your friend

Llinos

**Recaptured**  
**Chapter 169/78**

by **Llinos**  
beta **Marigold**

"Éomer son of Éomund," Galadriel addressed the man standing proudly before her. "I have looked into your heart and see that it is noble and true. There is no lie about you for you are well born and have no need of such devices. For the sake of the halfling who does not waken, we would ask you to relate the events that happened outside Fangorn when you attacked a raiding party of orcs."

"My Lady," Éomer bowed respectfully. "I do so gladly. It is no secret and many of the events of that encounter seemed to be strange, however, I recounted much of what occurred to the Lord Aragorn along with his two companions, for which they may bear witness."

"I do not doubt that," Galadriel said, "but I believe it to be the most significant part of what has occurred!"

"Then I will tell all and if my memory fails, surely the three hunters will correct me."

"There is no need to rely upon your recollections or those of your companions," Galadriel's delicate hand skimmed above the water of the mirror, not touching it but causing a slight ripple from the breeze of her fingers. "Look into the Mirror and it will reveal what happened."

As Éomer gazed into the shimmering liquid the others gathered around to watch...

"Éomer! Éomer! Wake up brother, there is news from the North. The scouts have returned!"

"Éowyn?" Éomer was awake at once. It was still dark, but his sister had brought a light and he reached for his helm and sword, both always to hand. "What say they?"

"You must hear for yourself," Éowyn turned the lamp a little higher and, seeing her brother was already clad, motioned to the two emissaries who waited outside the chamber. "They have given their report to the King but he was unmoved by it and Grima Wormtongue dismissed them as troublemakers."

"What is it that brings you before dawn to my chamber?" Éomer looked from one man to the other, "Drâmym? Ŭnomer? Speak quickly!"

"My Lord Marshall, an orc-host came down out of the East Wall in the night," Drâmym reported, "and among them are many that bear the white badges of Saruman.

"And yet my sister tells me that Théoden cares not," Éomer said, "and his advisor even less! Will you carry your story until you find someone to respond in different manner?"

"My Lord," Ŭnomer said," ever you have spoken of your fear, of a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower. This is surely evidence that you are not mistaken!"

"How many were there?" Éomer said buckling his sword to his side. "Where were they going?"

"Three different tribes we saw," Drâmym said. "There were over a hundred of the goblin breed that dwell in the north. They fear the sun and yet they were abroad in daylight."

"And at least four score Uruk-hai, who bore the White Hand of Isengard," Ŭnomer added. "That kind is stronger and more fell than all others. Large, swart, slant eyed orcs with great bows and short broad-bladed swords."

"Then we saw others coming to join them," Drâmym continued. "A couple of score from across the Great River; long-armed crook-legged orcs. They had a red eye painted on their shields."

"Quickly then," Éomer had made his decision. "Summon my éored, men of my own household. We will intercept and destroy them before they can do more harm."

"But what of the King?" Éowyn asked. "Our Uncle has not sanctioned this action brother. Will you go without his leave?"

"I fear it will not be forthcoming," Éomer said grimly. "But, as our father before, I will not lie easy while orcs roam our lands."

As the sun lifted the darkness from the plain of Rohan, without cry of horn or song, Éomer and his men set forth. Hard they rode all that day until they came upon the orc host.

"Fan out," Éomer ordered. "Éothain, take your éored to the right, but keep them close to the river. We must hem them in."

"My Lord Marshall," Éothain cried, "they run faster than before. They have seen we are gaining on them and it has added speed to their flight."

"They cannot run forever," Éomer called in return. "Urge your horses to give of their best and shoot when you can. The more we bring down in flight, the fewer we shall have to slay hand to hand."

Drâmym and Ŭnomer were both skilled at shooting a bow from a running horse and, riding swiftly into range, they shot arrows at the orcs that straggled behind and as they fell, the riders wheeled away out of the range of the answering bows of their enemies, who shot wildly, not daring to halt.

As night fell the Riders gradually encircled the orcs, cutting off their escape in all directions. Although many had fallen to the bows of the Riders, still over 200 remained.

"We will wait until daybreak for our main attack," Éomer said as he dismounted. "Kindle fires around to show we are on guard, but stay clear of the light they throw."

"Be as silent as possible, "Éothain told his men. "These creatures have hearing like dogs and will aim their arrows at any sound. Do not speak unless to give warning."

"Very well," Ŭnomer spoke quietly under his breath. "But we will take as many as we can. The dark will cover our approach and stealth will be our watchword."

Through the night many attacks took place and orcs on guard would turn to find their fellows missing or slain. As daylight approached Drâmym, circling the outskirts of the encampment suddenly heard the ring and saw the glint of an orc blade. He let fly an arrow and was rewarded with a shriek. As his horse leapt forward a gangling orc rose up and tried to run, but swiftly Drâmym rode him down and skewered him with a spear. Ŭnomer urged his mount towards the sounds and noted that the animal gave a slight jump, as if avoiding something in the grass.

Suddenly there was a great screeching and bellowing from the orcs as if a fight had broken out amongst them. Then almost immediately came the answering cries of orc voices from the right, outside the circle of watch fires, from the direction of the forest. Orcs were attacking the besiegers from the other side and Drâmym and Ŭnomer both rode off to deal with the newcomers.

The swift Riders of Rohan did not take long to deal with the sortie and once the latest attackers were driven off or killed, they returned to their silent ominous vigil.

As dawn turned the sky pale, Éomer renewed the offensive and harried the orcs to the very edge of Fangorn. Nearly all were slain, but one band, holding together in a black wedge, drove forward resolutely in the direction of the forest.

Then, without warning, a thick fog descended upon both pursued and pursuers. Éomer was about to dismount and engage their leader, an ugly great brute that the others named as Uglúk, but the impenetrable fog threw the horses into terror and they retreated in panic from the surrounding murk.

Once out of the fog the horses became calm again, but nothing would persuade them to go back into that grim haze.

Éomer then dismounted and, with Éothain, Drâmym and Ŭnomer by his side, returned to the black smog. But search as they may, they found no sign of orc or goblin. It was as if they had grown wings and flown away. Even when they emerged from the dark mist, those waiting reported no fugitives having left the fog.

"We thought it was but another evil device of the Dark Lord," Éomer concluded as the images faded. "Although we set a long vigil, there was nothing more to be done. When the fog finally cleared, the orcs were gone without trace."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Merry looked up at the Wizard with wonder in his eyes, "Gandalf?" He whispered as though afraid to speak, "do you suppose all things are connected? I mean, is everything somehow linked to everything else?"

"You mean Drâmym and Ŭnomer?" Gandalf said with a raised eyebrow and a smile. "It would seem to be."

"Why do you ask that Meriadoc?" Galadriel had heard the exchange, her elven hearing keener than that of the others. "Did these Riders play some other part in these events?"

"Y-yes, Milady," Merry stammered, caught off guard. "I travelled with them to Meduseld... well that is...um..."

"What Merry is reluctant to own," Gandalf supplied. "Is that he saved Drâmym's life on that journey and now it would seem that, unknown to him, Drâmym had already saved Pippin and him from death at the hands of a renegade orc."

"Yes, that is true," Merry admitted. "But I never knew until now who it was that saved us that night."

"That bodes well," Galadriel said with a smile. "For your friendship with these two was not just random and began before your realities divided. Now, if Captain Smagnu will bring Peregrin to the Mirror, we shall attempt to show him what might have been and, with that understanding, help him to be aware of what is."

Smagnu carefully picked Pippin up once more and carried him to the basin. Instructed by a wave of Galadriel's hand he held the hobbit, cradled in his strong arms, backwards over the shimmering surface of the Mirror. Galadriel took a pearlescent shell and, dipping it into the water, she poured the silvery drops over Pippin's eyes.

"Now Peregrin will see what we see," the Lady said. "Look..."

At first the scene appeared to be that which had just been witnessed. Éomer was dismounting, having driven the remaining orcs back against the forest wall. But this time there was no fog. The fight was long and grim but Éomer finally triumphed and Uglúk was slain.

As the keen-eyed riders hunted down the few orcs that remained the images changed and the watchers saw Merry and Pippin walking hand in hand with a tall Ent with smooth shining skin and grey-green hair. They laughed and talked and called him Quickbeam.

The water of the Mirror shimmered and suddenly the two hobbits were perched upon Treebeard's shoulder as he marched at the head of an army of Ents. They saw Isengard flooded and destroyed and then Merry and Pippin were standing at the gates welcoming the three hunters, Gandalf, King Théoden and his men.

"Welcome my lords, to Isengard!" Merry greeted the party with due courtesy and formality, until Gimli finally exploded with exasperation.

"Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you!" he spluttered. "And here we find you feasting and idling – and smoking! Smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains?"

"Look Frodo! Look!" The three hobbits and Sniggin were standing on a raised step that had been placed tactfully by one of the Elven folk to enable the little ones to see the Mirror clearly. Pippin was still being held backwards over the water by Smagnu, still in a deep slumber. "Did you see?" Merry was almost beside himself with excitement. "Pippin smiled!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin was afloat on an ocean of anguish. There were many thoughts battling in his head but only two were clear. The first was his last memory of hearing the cries of the Eagles as he lay suffocating beneath the slain troll and the other was Merry.

He was hurting and hurting, but Merry was not with him. That was the most worrying part of it all. But then again, Pippin remembered, he was dying or maybe even dead already, so it was just as well that Merry was not there. A wisp of sadness flitted across his thoughts anyway. If only he could have seen Merry one last time, just to say goodbye.

But, all at once, Pippin felt a lightness flicker into his eyes and the pain vanished. He felt warm and comfortable, as one does after coming inside from the wet and cold to a nice hot bath, clean pyjamas and a warm supper.

And there was Merry, standing beside him, puffing on his pipe and laughing and joking. He felt unreasonably happy and the thought that he probably was really dead now and this was some imagined afterlife, barely registered. As the reality grew stronger the happiness increased as Gandalf, Strider, Gimli and Legolas rode up, together with a stately lord, who Pippin recognised as King Théoden. Courteous words and jests were exchanged and the mood of all was light and gladness.

But the scene moved on and they were standing before Orthanc. "That's odd," thought Pippin. "I remember this, but Merry and I were inside, prisoners of Saruman. How did we come to escape?"

Suddenly Pippin shuddered with horror. Hurtling through the air, like a misbegotten shooting star, flew a globe of crystal; dark and yet glowing with a heart of fire. Pippin knew what it was and, as it got closer, it seemed to grow in size until the hobbit was entirely engulfed in its cold relentless depths.

As Pippin moaned in his slumber, Merry reached out to take his hand.

"No," Galadriel commanded. "Do not touch him Meriadoc. He must find his own way back."

As Pippin spun around inside the palantír, a myriad of images swirled all about him. He saw the Ents wreaking havoc upon Isengard and then he was riding behind Aragorn towards Dunharrow in the company of King Théoden's Men. Merry was seated behind Gandalf on Shadowfax and Pippin was aware of a strange gnawing in his head which he knew at once was a desire that seemed to come from without himself for the palantír.

Then he was lying uncomfortably on the ground next to Merry in the encampment at Dol Baran. He was restless and could not sleep. He and Merry were talking.

"Well that's odd," Pippin thought. "I can hear and speak and Merry can obviously see, and yet it does not feel wrong – just different."

Then Pippin watched himself sneaking over to where Gandalf lay. "No! No! No!" Pippin's mind screamed at his alter-ego, but it made no difference. Terrified, Pippin waited for the horrendous image in the palantír to engulf him, but even more dreadful was the certain knowledge that once that had happened the Nazgûl would come and bear him away to Barad-dûr, perhaps this time it might even take Merry as well!

Pippin, his eyes still firmly closed, was whimpering now. But as the others gazed at the silver reflections in Mirror they could see why. The hobbit had stolen the palantír from Gandalf and was sitting in a moonlit dell gazing into its depths like a greedy child stooping over a bowl of food.

"Ouch!" Frodo muttered sibilantly so only his cousin could hear. "Merry, you're hurting me."

"S-sorry," Merry whispered back and released his iron grip on Frodo's arm. "It's hard to watch this. I know what's going to happen next!"

Pippin lay prone on his back. The encounter with Sauron had left him battered and exhausted but now Gandalf was leaning over him and showering him with questions. He had screamed, that much he knew, and now he was explaining what he had seen. The hard, cold stars, the tower battlements, the Nazgûl circling around. The Dark Lord himself.

But then the scene changed again, and he was riding, not with the cruel, pitiless Witch King, but with Gandalf on Shadowfax to Minas Tirith!

The images began to move faster and faster, but the watchers had no need to follow with their eyes. All that happened passed straight into their understanding and memory.

They saw Frodo and Sam with Faramir in Henneth Annun, followed by the treacherous Gollum; Aragorn, in company with Legolas and Gimli and the Dûnedain as they rode the Paths of the Dead. They watched as Merry, clad in leather jerkin and helm, rode with a young knight named as Dernhelm, although the watchers knew it to be Éowyn.

They saw Frodo captured by orcs in Cirith Ungol, but when Sam rescued him and they sat together in the high tower, Merry and Pippin did not come.

They saw Pippin pledge himself to Denethor and there was Faramir, wounded by a dart and overcome by the Black Breath, lying comatose in the Great Hall.

As the battle of the Pelennor Fields raged and King Théoden was overcome by the Witch King, the watchers gasped at the fall of the brave nobleman. Faramir could not help gazing in wonder as Éowyn stood resolutely by her kinsman and, with help from Merry, slew the terrible foe, only to be laid low herself.

The tension was palpable as Denethor threw himself onto the burning pyre and Pippin's courage and tenacity in summoning Gandalf to save Faramir did not go unnoticed.

Frodo and Sam, press ganged into the orc army suffered terribly. There was no help this time from Smagnu or Grutfley. But the images moved on and they continued the painful toil towards Mount Doom.

As Pippin watched the events unfold before him he began to wonder where in all this story were Smagnu and Grutfley and the little hero Bloggin or his brother Sniggin. As if reading his thoughts the scene shifted to a new view.

Majdi Rann was feeling uneasy. His master was in a furious temper and with just cause. His embassy with the invading army had not gone well.

"Fools!" he stormed. "What do they hope to gain by snatching back the ratling spy's gear? If that pathetic wizard thinks sending insects to pry upon the Great Lord Sauron will help him, he is even more stupid than I thought!"

Majdi could not help but notice, in spite of the venomous victory in his master's words a note of defeat.

"Get ready!" The Mouth of Sauron snapped. "I leave now for Lugbúrz. Sauron will want a report and no doubt some heads will roll! Make sure it's not any of yours!"

"Hurry," Majdi muttered quietly to Vimta Ludd. "We must not aggravate him while he's in this mood. At least we will be safe there away from the battle!"

As the image faded it leapt forward in time and the last Pippin saw of the man who had befriended Merry was of his petrified face as the great tower of Barad-dûr came crashing down to bury all who were there.

Grutfley was having a good day. It had started out badly when he had been ordered up to the front line by some jumped up piece of crud who had got the idea that he, Grutfley had been fiddling the rations.

Grutfley knew it was all vindictive lies! No one could ever accuse him of doling out short measures and selling the extra on the black market. He was far too cunning and skilled at the game ever to be caught!

However, never one to let small problems like a war get in his way, Grutfley had managed to acquire an overseer's whip – he had actually wrenched it from the dead hand of the overseer that he had just stuck his knife in – and was now using it to good effect.

Not that Grutfley was thrashing reluctant snaga orcs into the battle; that was not his style at all. Rather, he was using it on apparently dead orcs as a method of ensuring they were actually dead and not just feigning and, if they were genuinely bereft of life, relieving them of any unnecessary ballast, such as coins, jewellery or, if he was very lucky, mithril teeth.

And today was a good day for looting! He had so far totted up, five rings of varying quality, a silver talisman, a brooch with a pearl set in it, six teeth, one of which was definitely gold and twenty seven and a half copper pennies in hard cash. It was probably his success that made him use less than his usual caution – that and the fact that his side appeared to be winning. The axe-wielding dwarf seemed to come out of nowhere!

Pippin almost smiled at the look of triumphant fury on Gimli's face as he swung his trusty axe towards the orc's neck. But then he felt a wave of sorrow sweep over him. In spite of a bad beginning, Pippin had come to regard Grutfley as, perhaps not a friend, but at least an ally.

But then he heard Gimli mutter as he wiped the black blood from his honed blade, "Stinking looter! I'll not even count that scum in my score with the elf!" And Pippin realised it would be impossible to argue Grutfley's case in this strange world!

Sniggin and Bloggin were scurrying with a speed that would make a mouse with a cache of corn that knows the cat is on the prowl look slow. They had lit a fire, having scavenged enough fuel from the bare earth on which they were camped. In fact earth was exactly what they were burning, for the regiment to which they had been assigned were bivouacked on an ombrotrophic peat bog which had dried out enough to enable chunks of the ground to combust into a useful, slow-burning camp fire. They had a large cooking pot which they had lugged all the way from Minas Morgul and were now filling it with "meat" of questionable origin, mostly beetles and worms plus the occasional slug.

"Oi! Wotta dem two doing?" A large Uruk rode up on a black, snorting, bony horse. He was shouting at their Sergeant-in-Charge. "All snaga orcs are meant to be up the front. There's a couple of stinkin' helf archers there, an' we needs more bodies!"

"Well dems is getting fodder fer the trolls," the Sergeant explained. "an' fer the blokes in dis regiment o' mine!"

"Can't go wastin' dem on that!" The Uruk snarled. "We needs dem fer cannon fodder – trolls ain't got time ter eat an neither do yous! Doncha know there's a war on?

"Right!" The Sergeant wasn't about to make trouble for himself with the likes of this Uruk Captain. "Snig and you – wassyername? Git with the Captain 'ere an' look sharp about it! Leave that fuggin' stew an' git goin'!"

"But Sarge," Sniggin protested, "we ain't got no weapons nor nuffink! How can we fight?"

"Yer don't need no weapons," the Uruk Captain cracked his whip at them. "Ain't enough ter go round fer the likes of yous – now shift!"

Pippin could hear a loud thumping sound and realised it was his own heart beating with impotent anger as he watched poor little Sniggin and Bloggin chased towards the front line by the cruel whip. The images blurred with speed and suddenly the two orcs were amid a cacophony of battle screams and cries. In the far distance he could even make out Legolas – his dear Legolas – together with the sons of Elrond, letting fly barrage after barrage of deadly arrows. He hoped desperately, although why it made a difference he was not sure, that the arrow that pierced Sniggin's throat had not come from Legolas's bow. Nevertheless, as he watched the fading view of Bloggin; prostrate and weeping with a pain he, Pippin, understood only too well over his brother's body, he somehow knew that the killing shot had come from the elf he loved so dearly.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam placed a firm hand on Sniggin's shoulder as he felt the orc trembling beside him. He gulped and sniffed himself as he felt the water tingling in his eyes. Glancing round at Frodo and Merry, he could see them both wiping surreptitiously at their faces.

Merry tentatively started to reach out to Pippin once more; then checked himself, putting his hands behind his back as if using all his will to refrain from touching his cousin. Instead he whispered, "Pip's crying."

Sam looked at the hobbit held over the Lady's magical mirror just as two large teardrops splashed into the shimmering water.

Corporal Smagnu had been sent to Cirith Ungol on a fool's errand and he knew it. There had obviously been one gargantuan fight as all the orcs who were supposed to be guarding the place were dead, dying or missing – presumed run away and there was no sign of a runt-like spy having been taken prisoner.

"Fug this for a game of soldiers!" Smagnu muttered. "If'n I goes back now without what I come for I'll be right in the shit!" The Uruk was only too well aware of a distinct policy of _blaming the messenger'_ that existed in Barad-dûr. He also knew that the collection of this spy was a vital task and that failure to produce would be the only issue his superiors would be concerned with. The fact that the fugging spy hadn't been where they said it would be, would not be taken into account at all.

"Well they can't have let it get away," he decided. "Must've taken it to Minas Morgul on account of the fighting. They better not have spoiled or damaged it!" Smagnu's sergeant had been very specific about that. "I'll have ter go through that bleedin' tunnel now! Can't waste any more time going round. If that stinkin' spider's there it'd better watch out!"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Once again the images moved swiftly forward and as Smagnu strode towards the tunnel in which he and Merry had battled the giant spider, Pippin began to gasp for breath.

"Frodo! Gandalf! Look!" Merry realised he had been holding his own breath as he watched Pippin start to take big gulps of air.

"Yes, Merry, I see!" Frodo grasped Merry's arm now. "Come on Pippin – come on!"

Smagnu said nothing but, as he steadfastly held Pippin over the Mirror, his face turned grim as he watched the reflected scene unfold.

Smagnu had left his horse at Cirith Ungol. He had considered riding around the long way, but decided that if the prisoner had been taken to Minas Morgul, chances were that the guards would have used the tunnel and if they decided to return to where they were supposed to be, they would almost certainly come back the same way. He did not want to risk missing them again.

The entrance loomed like a black grave, but Smagnu was not daunted. He could see signs that many orcs had passed through here recently. The ground was trampled and there were shreds of spider web hanging broken around the pass. As he went on it grew darker and darker and, although he had no light to guide him, his eyesight was good as was his sense of smell and he easily followed the trail of footprints and detritus left by his kind.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Oh Captain Smagnu," Sam began muttering half to himself, remembering the horror of that pass. "Have a care... watch your back..."

"Hush Samwise," Gandalf raised a warning eyebrow. Although it made no difference, for, of course, the images in the Mirror of Galadriel could not hear the watchers.

They saw the Uruk stride fearlessly through the dark fissure and only they saw the hideous form of Shelob as she crawled out from her ghastly hole. Her belly was still suppurating from the wound Sam had inflicted and she left a trail of dirty green and yellow slime as she dragged her great bag of a body along. Her damaged eye, that Sam had put out, vexed her sorely and she was not only filled with evil rage but also throbbing hunger. She had to eat if she was to recover and the only way she could do that was to climb. So damaged was her body that she could no longer leap upon her prey and her best hope was to climb high enough to drop on the next unsuspecting creature that dared to enter her lair. Her poison was frothing from her stingers, so pent up was she with lack of food. Whatever she dropped upon would not be paralysed but killed stone dead. The blood would still be warm and there would be no need to hang this next kill. It was doubtful that she would even have the strength to drag it away to her larder. So she climbed, higher and higher.

And, as if in symbiotic accord, Smagnu marched towards her, intent only on completing his errand and finding the spy prisoner he had been sent to fetch.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Pippin had stopped gasping and now seemed to be holding his breath...

Smagnu still said nothing...

Shelob dropped!

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Aiiiieeee!"

Pippin jerked bolt upright in Smagnu's arms with a piercing scream. "Nooooo! Not that! It mustnent happerning like that! Not don't get spiderer she et my Smag! No! No! No!"

"It didn't Little Pip," Smagnu spoke at last. "Now I know why everyone kept saying I got et by a spider – only I didn't – not here – not in this time – because of you!"

"I don't understrand it," Pippin was awake but dazed. "What happerened... happeded... **happened** then?"

"It's all right, my lad," said Gandalf, reaching out to steady Pippin, as Smagnu set him on his feet. "You're suffering from a reality conflict, but you seem to have chosen the right one."

"What am... where?" Pippin calmed and blinked at the silhouette of the wizard bending over him. "I not got no real tea conflicts! I go like some real tea, if it is for have some?"

"I'll get that!" Sam said, anxious after so much tension to offer something practical. "A nice pot of tea would be just the thing!"

"Why everybodies here?" Pippin looked around at the smiling, assembled company. "I feeling like I been go a long, long journey and now I being here. What go happen?"

"Well Pip," said Merry, breathing a sigh of relief as he and Frodo put their arms around their cousin and drew him in. "You're back!"

**-THE END**-

**_(Except, of course, for the Appendices)_**


	79. Appendix I - The Departed

**Appendix I  
The Departed**

by **Llinos  
**beta **Marigold**

The three beings stood, albeit on a cloud of fluctuating silver-grey mist, and watched with a mixture of satisfaction, relief and sorrow as Pippin regained his mind and was reunited with his kith and kin. Satisfaction that the enigma of Pippin's life or death had at last been resolved, relief that all appeared to be in the correct order and some sorrow that, for now, their involvement with the hobbits was over.

Although as actual entities they had very little in common, at that moment, they felt a comradeship born out of mutual concern for their friends.

"I expect, My Lord Boromir, that you will now wish to join your forefathers?" Eroo's voice addressed the man in a voice akin to his own, although Bloggin heard, _"'specting you's be gettin' on ter see yer dead mates and suchlike now!"_

"You have shown much fortitude in watching over the halflings," Eroo continued, "but it would seem your task is ended."

"But not, I fear, my penalty for failing Frodo and his kin, nor should I be redeemed for my weakness in trying to take a power that was beyond my worth."

"If you deem your worth was that which would have ultimately corrupted you, my brother, then you underestimate yourself." Boromir saw that Eroo had taken on the appearance of Faramir and yet he knew that it was the sprite Eroo which spoke to him. "Do not take any further blame. You did not take the Ring and you repented your actions before you left the living world. Even Isildur who passed to his ancestors many years ago could not say the same."

"Your words are kind," Boromir said solemnly, "but yet I fear my father will not welcome me to his Halls."

"Your father, Boromir, has still his own concerns to resolve," Eroo replied in equal tone. "but there are others waiting to greet you – look!"

From the mist a figure emerged, a lordly man with a graceful bearing.

"'Oo's dat?" Bloggin had listened quietly to all that was said, but jumped in surprise and a little fear as the noble king drew near.

"I am Ecthelion, the Second, son of Turgon," the man said, and Bloggin and Eroo could see a wise and kindly twinkle to his eye. "Come to welcome my grandson to his rightful place."

Boromir was smiling with joy as he reached out his hands, "Grandfather!"

"You were but six years of age when I passed to our forefathers, but I have watched your life with growing pride, Boromir. You have acquitted yourself with honour and valour."

"But I failed at the last," Boromir's smile faded and his head drooped down. "Why else was I bound to the Arda for so long?"

"Speak not of failure, my grandson," Ecthelion clasped his hand on Boromir's shoulder. "Your own misplaced guilt held you to watch over Meriadoc and Peregrin and I see in your heart that it was not a task you would have shirked. Indeed you were steadfast in your vigil and used each of your chances to help them wisely."

"Thank you, Grandfather," Boromir pulled himself up straight and Bloggin thought he looked even grander than the noble lord who had come to greet him. "Your approval means much to me."

"I give it gladly," Ecthelion pointed into the cloudy distance. "And not just mine, look yonder..."

Eroo nudged Bloggin, "dat dere is the Lord Adrahil, 'im what wuz Prince of Dol Amroth, and dat wiv 'im is the Lady Findulais an all! I reckons Boromir'll be all right now!"

"Grandpapa! Mother!" As Boromir stepped swiftly towards his noble kinfolk, he and they were enveloped in a swirling golden mist and became lost to the sight of Bloggin and Eroo.

"Looks as if he've gotta happy ending an all!" Bloggin sighed. "Shame 'bout 'is Dadda though innit?"

"Oh don't yer worrit none 'bout 'is Dad," Eroo said lightly. "He ain't suffering none. He's jist got a few fings to fink about by hisself fer a bit. He'll be right enough given time. 'Twernt like 'e wuz bad nor nuffink, jist a bit o' misthinkin' wuz all."

"Well Mr Eroo Sir, Yer Honour," Bloggin touched his forelock, "I'se thankful fer all yer done fer us, an' I s'ppose I'd best git on wiv me job now. Can yer show me where I has ter go?"

"No need fer thanks," Eroo tucked his arm through Bloggin's in a friendly manner. "Nor fer any leave-taking. I'm comin' wiv yer. Little Pip says he don't need me no more now and there's a lot to do an all! Can't leave yer to do it all alone, not ter start wiv anyhow."

And as Eroo took Bloggin's arm, the clouds around them faded and they were standing in the midden of howling body parts that Pippin had seen before. Bloggin was quite shaken, "I-I dunno wheres ter begin," he stuttered. "Can't believe me Mum's in 'ere! She dun't deserve this!"

"No indeed," Eroo said gently, modulating his accent to a tone in which he knew Bloggin would find confidence. "But I don't believe she is here. These are the most depraved and evil of Orckind, your mother will not be among them, for she showed love and compassion to you and your brother."

"Where is she then?" Bloggin looked frantically around them. "I wuz s'pposed ter find her first off!"

"Follow me," Eroo said and set off around the edge of the midden. They trudged along in silence for what seemed to Bloggin a long time, for he was taking in every detail as fast as his simple orc-brain could manage. At first all they could see was a writhing, stinking, screaming mass of living body parts. Occasionally a limb or head or some unidentifiable piece of gut would fly up into the ether and splash back down into the miasma of suffering and misery. Gradually the scenery about them changed and they saw orcs being stretched upon torture racks, broken upon giant wheels and burned upon massive pyres. Then, as they moved further in, Bloggin trembling with anxiety, Eroo's guiding presence firmly urging him along, they saw orcs labouring under heavy weights piled upon their backs, or turning handles of great wheels, or running endlessly around giant treadwheels.

"Wot's 'appening?" Bloggin whispered fearfully. "Wot does it all mean?"

"The punishments are getting a bit lighter," Eroo explained. "But this can't go on – not for all eternity. That's your – our task. "We must make these creatures understand that there is more to existence than pain and cruelty and you can't do that by inflicting retribution in kind upon them forever."

"How do we do that?" Bloggin asked in wonder. "I ain't too good at experplainering fings!"

"No need," Eroo said simply. "You don't have to use fancy words or make long speeches, just show them the kindness in your heart."

"Yer means jist by helping 'em, I can, sort of show them the way?"

"Yes!"

Bloggin walked nervously towards a large scar-faced orc who was laboriously trying to shift a great boulder, four times his size. "'ere, d'yer want a hand wiv that?"

"Whaddyer mean, yer little runt?" the orc snarled. "Git outt'er the way!"

Bloggin ignored the scowling command and with a pole that had magically appeared in his hands began to lever the boulder into its designated resting place. "There now," he said with a grin, "yer can take a bit of a break now, yer looks right tired."

"Wass yer game?" The orc demanded. "Wot you after?"

"Nuffink!" Bloggin held up his hands in denial. "Jist wanted to 'elp."

"Right," the orc looked bemused by this, but something in Bloggin's expression made him realise he was genuine. "Well thanks mate, thanks fer that."

"Yer welcome!" Bloggin said retreating backwards to Eroo.

"Well done!" Eroo clapped him on the back. "A small start to a big job, but you'll get there. Come along, we've still a little way to go."

As they continued through the throng of toiling orcs, they began to see females. They too were labouring but at tasks such as scrubbing vast areas of rock or frantically heaving great mounds of unidentified washing in huge tubs. Eventually they came to a compound fenced in with sharp barbed wire. From inside the compound came a great wailing as of many infant voices, all vying for attention.

"Young 'uns?" Bloggin gasped. "They got newborns in 'ere?"

"Those who perished before their time," Eroo nodded, "yes. And this is where we must go first, for the progeny of an orc that had no time to grow must be without blame."

Eroo waved his hand at the gate in the compound and it opened before them. Inside Bloggin could see hundreds of little ones, from babies to half-grown youths, most of whom were screaming and wailing or, in the case of the older children, squabbling and fighting. In their midst was a tired looking orc female. She was desperately trying to calm the crying orcs and separate the skirmishing ones. The female was exceptionally ugly, even for an orc. Her back was bowed, as were her legs, most of her teeth were missing or black, her eyes were crossed and bulged out over her protruding nose. In the centre of her forehead was a large hole.

"Mamma!"

The female looked round and blinked and her strabismus eye straightened into focus. Her jaw dropped open and she let out a strangled wail. "Blog! My own lil' Blog! Is you dead already! I knewed it! I knew them fuggin' soljers wud be the death o' yer!"

"Mamma! It's all right," Bloggin rushed over to his mother and threw himself into her arms. "I done summink good an now I'se come to rescue yer and all the others what is sufferin' in 'ere."

"S'right enuff!" Eroo said, reverting to his Orc accent. "Yer bratling died a hero and now he's got the job of givin' all dem as what's in 'ere anuvver chance!"

"Yer weren't bad Mamma," Bloggin's hands moved to his Mother's face and as he touched the hole in her forehead it slowly closed up. "'Cos, yer loved me an Snig and Eroo 'ere says that's the bestest fing yer can do."

As Mamma held Bloggin in a tight embrace, tears began to leak from her eyes and the salty water gradually shrank her bulging eyes to a normal size, her hooked nose subsided back into her face until it was a mere tilt. Her teeth filled in, growing white and regular and her back and legs began to straighten until she was quite a handsome looking female orc.

"Was happening ter me?" Mamma breathed in wonder. "I fink I'se changing. Me back don't 'urt no more and I can see proper!"

"It is merely a reflection of your true self," Eroo said gently. "You are a handsome female on the inside and so you shall be on the outside too."

"Yer see Mamma, "Bloggin said, grinning now from ear to ear, "we gotta save all them as wants to be saved and I reckons we'd best start in 'ere wiv these young-uns!"

And so Bloggin and his Mamma worked for the rest of that day, with Eroo's help, showing the little ones kindness and explaining to them what was right and what was wrong.

It was just the beginning of a long labour, and as it continued, day after day, week after week, more and more of the saved orcs helped others to know there was a better life _(that is to say, afterlife)_ and how to live it. Some even chose to go back to the Arda, to try again, particularly the worst of their kind, for they had much to repent and could only redeem their souls by living a better life.

And Eroo?

Well Eroo stayed with Bloggin for most of the time, helping and advising, although there were odd moments when he suddenly felt impelled to take a brief leave of absence, such as the time Pippin leapt (or more likely fell) from the top of the Great Steam Vapour Spindle Activated Vegetation Dissection and Lubrication Apparatus in the party field.

Pippin had been demonstrating the wonders of the new grass cutting machine when he apparently executed a double backwards somersault from 10 feet up over the top of the mighty engine. There had been much speculation and debate for years afterwards as to how he had not ended up as grass cuttings. But, what no one saw, and Pippin barely noticed, was the intervention of Eroo a'Reroo as, called away by whatever power he held to know when Pippin was in mortal danger, caught the hobbit and guided his path safely to the ground._(see footnote)._

There were other occasions, but these are not (_for the sake of space, Pippin being quite accident pron_e) recorded here.

**(More Appendices to follow)**

_Footnote: This occurs during the story,_ _"__**The Great Hobbiton Race of 1435". **_


End file.
